More Than Prophecy

More Than Prophecy by Shannon Leigh

Amber Quill Press, LLC www.amberquill.com

Copyright ©2004 by Shannon Leigh

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More Than Prophecy by Shannon Leigh

MORE THAN PROPHECY by SHANNON LEIGH **** ISBN 1-59279-324-X Amber Quill Press, LLC www.amberquill.com

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DEDICATION To my husband David, thank you for giving me the courage.

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More Than Prophecy by Shannon Leigh

CHAPTER 1 Cheyenne opened the door and slipped outside, pausing when she took in the threatening clouds. Although it was early evening, the sky was dismally gray and cloaked with a veil of heavy vapor. Crimson streaks stained the hazy billows as if the asphyxiated sun struggled to break free of its smothering shroud. Odd. She wrinkled her nose and squinted as she stared up at the scarlet splash. Probably just rain. Unconcerned, she shrugged and started down the stairs to her car. During her short drive home, the sky grew alarmingly bleak. Cheyenne peered out her windshield, staring up at the gloomy fog and praying the weather held out a few more blocks. Even though she didn't live very far from work, it looked as though a heavy storm was about to break, and she wanted to be somewhere safe before it hit. "Tornado season," she groaned. It was the only time of the year she hated sleeping alone. Aimee, her roommate, would probably be out all night; and Milo, her worthless cat, would no doubt be of little protection. She'd likely vanish after the first crack of lightening, disappearing into one of her many inconspicuous hiding spots, not to be seen again until the ferocious storm had ended. Cheyenne giggled as she thought about the first time she'd come across one of Milo's covert locations. She'd been hunting through the closet in search of a favorite pair of pants when she'd noticed two glowing orbs staring back out at her 5

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from beneath a mountainous pile of clean clothes. She'd shrieked in alarm, sending an equally stunned Milo tearing out of the closet like a bat out of hell. Cheyenne laughed again. She loved that crazy cat. As she turned into the parking lot and pulled into her designated spot, she noticed the trees swayed back and forth, as if caressed by a giant invisible hand. She stared, fascinated when several leaves tore free of their mother's limb and merrily danced about in erratic motion as though mocking their grounded parent who could do no more than wave her fists and thrash in place. Mentally shaking herself free of the brief trance, Cheyenne killed the Mustang's engine and reached for the handle. Newspaper, Styrofoam cups, and other bits of debris swirled about her feet in a frantic zephyr. Her long, black hair whipped around her face, smacking her forehead and stinging her cheeks. Irritated, she pulled the defiant wisps out of her eyes and reached into the back seat for her purse. The sky exploded with white light, bathing her surroundings in a brilliant, crystal-like gleam. Cheyenne screamed and pulled her arm out of the car just as the wind slammed the door shut. A frigid gust plastered her against the cold metal like a decorative hood ornament. A thunderous blast roared through her ears. She muffled them with her palms, but the noise persisted. It crept between her cupped fingers and bellowed through her brain, loud and foudroyant, like the beating of a massive bass drum. Cheyenne pushed herself away from the car and ran toward her apartment. But the wind shoved her forward, 6

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sending her sprawling face-first onto the ground. Her head smacked the concrete and a burst of glittering sparklers flitted through her swooning brain. Darkness encroached upon the borders of reality as her eyelids began to droop. Unconsciousness seemed like a welcome friend. Fighting to stay alert, she shrugged off her stupor and struggled to get up. The pavement was jagged and littered with broken glass. Its sharp edges punctured the palms of her hands as she pushed herself to her knees. Crying out in pain when a glossy shard sliced through her tender flesh like soft butter, she rocked back on her heels and cradled her injury. With a trembling hand, she shielded her eyes and stared up at the hostile sky. Terror filled her throat with bitter bile as she watched the darkening clouds swirl into a foreboding eddy with sparks of electricity shooting from its core like deadly arrows. Huge bolts of lightning seemingly played tag as they jumped from one billow to another. Each blazing dagger radiated from a central point, extended outward, and cut the heavens into jagged pieces of an enormous pie. Cheyenne's head throbbed with every pulse and her ears howled as if wild animals raced through her skull. The light was disorienting, making her nauseous and weak. Wrestling with incoherence, she pitched forward onto her hands, ignoring the painful sting on her palms when they slapped the asphalt. Her mind began spinning as her surroundings slowly faded into a racing blur of melted colors. The air around her 7

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culminated into an awesome vortex of gyrating motion. And she was the only thing grounded within the eye of this terrifying display of churning activity. Just when she thought she'd be sucked into the belly of this raging vacuum, everything suddenly stopped. The wind no longer ripped at her hair or screamed in her ears. It was now a gentle roll of ocean waves lapping against the shore, its soothing caress skillfully drawing her into a state of disoriented bliss. And the lightning no longer danced from one place to another, blinding her with its white-hot fury, but rather drew itself out in one long fractured line that traced the distant horizon. It faded in and out, like the blinking of an old fluorescent bulb on the verge of expiration. Cheyenne staggered to her feet. Slowly, she turned around in a complete circle, dazed and confused. The line of light stretched as far as she could see. There was no beginning, no end. It was as if the world had been cut in two—the Earth separated from its heaven by this strange electric band. Squinting with forced concentration, she focused on a section of light directly in front of her. It's closing! She watched with stunned curiosity as it began to contract. Ever so slowly, the illuminated strap drew in upon itself, gradually tightening about the Earth's midriff like a gigantic belt. Her surroundings bowed and curled, taking on the form of an enormous hourglass. And she was but a small grain of sand on the base, gazing up into the black mouth of the mysterious beyond. 8

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The line pulled tighter and tighter, shrinking until it was merely the size of a child's hula-hoop. It seemed suspended and fixed as it hovered above her—a window or doorway separating her from what lay beyond. But it was alive, pulsing, and breathing, a separate entity in itself. Other colors entwined themselves around the slender ring, coiling and twisting like the metrical motion of a slithering snake. Dense strands of painted vapor radiated toward the middle, melting together into a large, shimmering miasma of metallic brilliance. Reds, yellows, and purples danced and swirled amongst each other, creating a dazzling kaleidoscope. Mesmerized by the undulating hues, Cheyenne momentarily forgot her fear. She sank to the ground with wispy grace as her mind began to reel, careening dangerously on its axis. Unblinking, she stared at the dancing colors, letting the captivating patterns lull her into a deceptive impression of serene peace. She felt as though the Earth was moving beneath her, shifting, roiling, yet she remained motionless. Unconsciousness crept into her head and her eyelids began to sink. But she resisted, wanting to see what might happen next. Without warning, the suspended portal exploded like a gigantic firework of confetti sparklers. Cheyenne screamed throwing her arms over her head as the mass enveloped her in its vivid blaze. Her lids fluttered closed and a curtain of darkness fell upon her as she was pulled into a dazing whirl of vicious motion. **** 9

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Cheyenne slowly cracked open one eye and then squeezed it shut when light shot through her head like a silver bullet. "Oooh ... man," she groaned, feeling the unwanted effects of a wicked hangover. Funny, she didn't recall drinking last night. The last thing she remembered was falling to the ground when the wind had thrown her off balance. Shading her eyes from the sun's fierce glare, she rolled onto her belly. I must have landed on my head! Propping herself up on one elbow, she felt for a lump or depression with her other hand. Satisfied that she hadn't sustained any serious injuries, she turned her attention to her strange surroundings. "This isn't right." She blinked a few more times in bewilderment. She had landed by her car, in the parking lot. But her vehicle was nowhere in sight, and the ground was covered with grass, not broken pavement. Cheyenne tentatively fingered a long, green blade for verification. Disoriented, she fumbled to her feet. A small twinge of panic began in her belly as she took in her foreign surroundings. "I must be dreaming," she announced to the air around her, trying to quell her growing alarm. She pinched herself, yelping when pain shot through her arm. "Ouch!" Cheyenne rubbed her smarting skin. Ok, maybe this isn't a dream. There were no buildings, no cars, no streets, no lampposts. She was surrounded by trees and ... wildflowers and ... hills and ... nothing that made any kind of sense! 10

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Where the heck am I? Cheyenne slowly turned to survey the scenery. Distress tweaked her insides. I've got to find help, people, somebody, anybody who can tell me what's going on here. But which way? A vast forest teeming with lush vegetation flanked her left. It seemed expansive, endless, stretching out as far as she could see. Massive trees stood like gnarled old men, their skin wrinkled with age and their arms knobby with cancer-like tumors. Dense undergrowth and curling vines huddled at their feet, creating a seemingly impassible doorway that barred her from entrance. Whispering leaves and eerie shadows darkened their faces, lending to a ghostly air of silent warning. To her right was an enormous grassy knoll, which towered like a threatening mountain. Its looming peak soared above her, seemingly reaching the clouds and blocking her view with its steep, rock-strewn crest. Verdant flora speckled the surface and huge boulders littered the ground at its base, their brawny structures forming confusing labyrinths of narrow passages and dead-end trails. Cheyenne nervously chewed a fingernail as she pondered her choices. Neither way looked promising. It was as if she stood between two opposing forces, both of which were menacing in their own right. "Okay, I can either chance getting lost in the forest and being eaten by God only knows what..." She paced back and forth, tromping on the innocent tufts of grass beneath her bare feet as though they were the cause of her problem. 11

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"Or I can risk dehydration and heat stroke. What a choice!" She threw her arms up in the air with helpless frustration. Then a vision of snarling wolves, charging bears, and venomous snakes came to mind. With that, she decided to brave the sun. Although she valued and respected all animals, the thoughts of fangs, teeth, and death just didn't appeal to her. And besides, climbing hills wouldn't be so bad; she was rather athletic. Or perhaps it was something else that drew her to the right. She didn't know why, but her instinct screamed it was the way to go. And who was she to argue? Cheyenne glanced once more at the looming forest, visualizing yellow caution tape and an imaginary sign that yelled, "Danger! Do not enter!" Although only a figment of her creative imagination, the message was loud and clear. With an involuntary shudder, she turned on her heels and started toward the stony obstacle course. After only a few wrong turns, Cheyenne reached the base of the hill. But as the ground sloped upward, forcing her to lean forward and climb, an alarming discovery stopped her dead in her tracks. "Shit!" she gasped, staring down at her bare legs with horror. She was practically naked! Gone were her nursing uniform, her shoes, her jacket, and all manner of underclothing. Now she was garbed in a plain, cream-colored gown, which hung off her shoulders with spaghetti-thin straps that looked as though they would snap with the slightest tug. The material was nearly transparent 12

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and, she noticed with irritation, the offending garment barely covered her thighs. "Oh, this is great!" she yelled out to no one in particular and shook an angry fist toward the crystal blue sky as if scolding God himself. "I'm lost in the middle of who knows where, with no clothes, no directions, and—" A heavy rumble of what sounded like thunder echoed in the distance, momentarily cutting off her tantrum. "And it's getting ready to rain!" she threw out, determined to get in the last word. "Just wonderful." Cheyenne looked around for something to cover herself with, but found nothing of use. Unless she could use her sewing skills to quickly weave a dress of wildflowers and tall grass—which would certainly be preferable to what she currently wore, but seemed wildly ridiculous at the present moment—she was pretty much out of luck. She tapped a ragged pink fingernail against her chin as she pondered the long, green blades. Then she shook her head, ridding herself of the ludicrous notion. She could just see herself prancing about in a grass skirt. The idea was preposterous! Once again throwing her hands up in exasperation, she prayed the first person she encountered wasn't a man. Cheyenne started up the hill. But it was slow going. She slipped several times, grabbing hold of the ground to keep from sliding back down. "Almost to the top," she huffed, using handfuls of turf to pull herself upward. This hill-climbing thing was a little more difficult than she'd thought. 13

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The ground vibrated beneath her fingertips as another grumble echoed in the distance. It seemed closer this time, and didn't sound so much like thunder. It was ... something else. Surely thunder wouldn't make the dirt shake. Would it? And besides, there isn't a cloud in the sky. Cheyenne glanced up at the crystal blue heavens for verification. If only she could get to the top, then perhaps she'd have a better idea of what was going on. Of course, she wasn't so sure she wanted to know. Given her surroundings, she could be heading toward anything. Suppose a herd of buffalo was barreling toward her. Or a three-headed monster was clambering up the other side of this very hill. Or maybe... Stop it, Cheyenne. Her imagination was getting a little bit out of control. Buffalos? Maybe. But monsters? Cheyenne mentally shook the craziness out of her head. Monsters didn't exist. There had to be a logical explanation to all of this. She hoped. Finally reaching the top, she stood and stretched her aching legs. Noting that her hands were stained green by the upward trek, she wiped them on the front of her gown, leaving streaks of dirt and grass across its flimsy fabric. She scowled at the offending stains then looked around and saw ... nothing. There were no signs of civilization anywhere, just miles and miles of rugged landscape. The fear that had tugged her breast now clutched at her with vice-like force, squeezing the air from her lungs until she gasped in defense. 14

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What have I gotten myself in to? She struggled to remember last night's affairs, but couldn't seem to recall anything beyond getting out of her car. Cheyenne raced across the top of the hill to get a better look. As she neared the edge, just before it began a sharp descent, she faltered, seeing the source to the strange rumble she'd heard before. Horses! Or, at least that's what they looked like to her. Relieved, she just stood there and stared at the animals with wide-eyed wonderment, thankful she'd found another recognizable life form. At least I'm not alone. As she scanned the unconcerned herd, her gaze fell to another group of creatures milling a few yards away. Then, she saw him. He was magnificent, large and strong, with a suffocating air of unquestionable authority. Her eyes froze on his tall, lean form, his arresting good looks totally capturing her attention. He had a ruggedness and vital power that instantly attracted her, awakening a foreign, but pleasant, spark of interest deep within. His long, sturdy legs were spread wide in an unwavering stance, emphasizing the strength in his thighs and slimness of his hips. Broad shoulders were a mile wide and solid like molded bronze. A thick mane of golden blond hair fell about his chin in a disheveled, but pleasing, array of untamed splendor. He stood as if he prided himself on his captivating appearance and obvious insurmountable virility—like a Viking warrior ready to conquer all. As though sensing her presence, the man turned to face her. Suddenly, the winds of time ceased to blow and 15

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everything around her stood still. Cheyenne's heart pounded violently in her chest, making her teeth chatter with a mixture of fear and excitement. He was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Daunting, terrifying, yet fascinating, enthralling. A voice of warning whispered in her head and she stumbled back a step. Vaguely registering the others, Cheyenne blinked in stunned surprise. He wasn't alone. Nine other warriors hovered around him like faithful servants protecting their king. Although none were as intimidating as he, all were seemingly barbaric and just as formidable. And every one had stopped what he was doing to stare in her direction. Full-fledged panic nearly knocked Cheyenne off her feet when her eyes met and locked with his. She gasped as a shiver of terror wracked her frame. One of the men was pointing her way, yelling. But she paid him no heed; her attention was focused on the one who stood within their midst like a revered Greek God. Never had someone's stare penetrated her core or their presence command her instant and complete attention. She could feel him reaching out to her, grasping her essence and claiming her spirit. Her heart flittered in her chest like a nervous butterfly, frantically trying to escape an invisible prison. An innate feeling screamed that her destiny entwined with his. But she stubbornly denied it, refusing to believe such a farcical idea. A cry of alarm died in her throat as he slowly unsheathed his sword and took a threatening step toward the 16

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knoll. Not knowing which was more in danger, her life or her soul, Cheyenne turned and fled. Half running, half sliding, she quickly made it down the hillside she'd climbed only moments before. Hearing voices behind her, Cheyenne pushed her body to move faster. Perhaps if she could make it to the forest, she could hide. It loomed ahead of her—growing closer, yet not close enough. Chancing to glance back over her shoulder, she immediately wished she hadn't; the man's towering seven-foot frame was cresting the hill. With a shriek of panic, she turned her attention back to the woods. As she neared the seemingly impenetrable barrier of trees, she frantically searched for an entrance. Which way? Spying a narrow path, she rushed through the small opening, losing precious moments as she fought through the thick tangle of coiling vines and crowded brush. The branches seemed to grab at her, trying to slow her escape. She could feel their sharp thorns biting into her exposed flesh, unmercifully ripping at her arms and legs. Angry red streaks appeared on her smooth skin as the forest seemingly came alive and attempted to devour her whole. Something large crashed through the shrubs behind her. Then a man's deep voice bellowed through the leaves. "Ahlte!" he demanded. Cheyenne ignored the harsh command and kept on running, terrified of the angry tone and the source from which it came. A long string of colorful words impaled the air around her. The language was foreign, but her brain worked quickly, 17

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switching around letters and deciphering sounds into what strangely resembled English with a strong Scottish slang. Although his and's were cut to an', his ow's and ou's came out like oo, he left the letter g off his -ing's, and practically disregarded h's all together, she translated every word with startling clarity. The man was cursing the foliage, the dense vegetation and hindering branches obviously not any less abusive to him than they were to her. For once in her life, Cheyenne was thankful for her petite stature. Seemed being small did have its advantages. She knew she could move through the tangled vines and dodge masses of undergrowth much easier than the giant who chased her. But that was something she'd have to celebrate later. What his bulky frame lacked in agility was compromised for with brute strength. A quick backward glance confirmed he was charging through the flora behind her like a raging locomotive, leveling everything in his path and quickly closing the distance between them. When Cheyenne came to an enormous wall of fallen trees and overrun plants, she paused only briefly to search for a way past the seemingly impassable doorway. Dropping to her knees, she crawled through a nearly invisible burrow. Then she was up and running again, allowing herself a smile of satisfaction as she imagined her pursuer's progress coming to an instant halt. He'll never get through there. Just a short way ahead, Cheyenne saw a break in the trees. Shielding her face, she burst through the narrow 18

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doorway and onto a wider trail. Without missing a beat, she increased her speed. When she approached a fork in the path, she veered to the right and kept running. Her plight was only momentarily interrupted when a long, gangly tree arm reached out and grabbed a hold of her gown as she rushed past its pointed tips. Cheyenne yanked against the restraining limb, ignoring the sharp sting at her hip as the spindly hand tore a large piece of fabric from the flimsy material and scraped across her skin. As though it might be needed for a future navigational clue, the branch held on to the scrap of fabric like a directional flag. But Cheyenne had no concern for the offending limb or her torn shift. Her main agenda was escape. And as soon as she had pulled free, she took off down the path once again. Several terse moments had passed before Cheyenne realized she no longer heard her hunter's heavy footsteps beating the trail behind her, or his brawny frame tearing through the brush. She could barely hear anything over the roaring in her ears from her pounding heart. He must be trapped. With a slight hint of relief, she turned her attention to finding a hideaway.

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CHAPTER 2 Not being one to make rash decisions, Lord Darian Andreas didn't know why he'd decided, last minute, to make the twoday trip to Havenwort. But upon awakening bright and early that morning, alone in his massive bed, he'd had a gut feeling that he should. It was as if some unknown force nagged him to go. After rousting a handful of guards who were none too pleased at being pulled from the warm comfort of their beds, and in most cases, the arms of the previous night's companion, he announced his intent. "Too long have I gone without the luxury of pleasurable company," Darian declared, in a firm voice that rang with authority. "In two days hence, we shall all wake with a smile." Knowing better than to argue with their Lord—who had a brutal temper and the reputation to prove it—his cranky warriors reluctantly set about packing the necessary supplies, grumbling in silence. Even though Andreas Castle had many available maidens, Darian preferred to keep his interests away from home. He'd already made the mistake of letting down his guard and falling for one of the palace servants. All he'd gotten in return was a wounded pride and a broken heart. He had no intention of traveling that perilous pathway again. Besides, it had been some time since he'd seen his good friend Brigette and visited her hospitable tavern. Surely Monique, his favorite barmaid, missed him, even though he'd 20

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left her quite disgruntled the last time he was there. Maybe now she wouldn't be so sharp-tongued, not if she wanted to share his bed while he was in town. Darian chuckled to himself as he led his stallion along the rocky chasm bordering the Rhian Mountains and thought on their last fight. Monique was quite a tigress when enraged. Her mouth could be as vulgar as some of the patrons she serviced, and her red fingernails as dangerous as steely blades. She certainly had no qualms about using them—he had the scars to prove it. As he pondered the many ways he intended to enjoy Monique's unique talents, the sky opened before him like a gaping mouth, bathing him and his startled men in a blinding light that sent his mount into a panic. By the time he regained control of his black steed, the mysterious aura was gone. "What the Hades?" Darian quickly glanced around to make sure everyone was accounted for. Gavin, his best man-at-arms and closest friend, reined his mare up beside him. "Did ya see that?" His bright blue eyes sparkled with astonishment. All his men gathered around him, each with his own question or recount of what he'd just witnessed. They were amazed and stupefied. And most were a might intimidated. "Mayhap the gods are angry!" one of the younger men exclaimed, glancing upward as if expecting attack. Darian leaned back in his saddle and thoughtfully stroked his stubbled chin. He stared up at the sky, now crystal blue and deceivingly clear as if nothing had happened. 21

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"Aye, perhaps. But I rather think we wouldn't be here ponderin', if that were so," he replied. "I say we go an' see what the bloody Hades it was!" Thor shouted. He was a wide, burly man with grizzled features and a poor sense of self-restraint. "Aye, an' mayhap yer ready to lose yer hide along with the rest of yer teeth!" Gavin snorted. Even in light of their quaint and potentially dangerous circumstances, Darian couldn't help but laugh. Like two children they were, bickering continuously. It never ceased. Thor was always ready to barrel into any situation with his head down and sword swinging, while Gavin preferred to use reason and wit when approaching strange predicaments. Perhaps that's why Gavin had never suffered any serious injuries. And Thor? Well, it was true—he was short most his teeth and covered with ragged scars from using too much brawn and not enough brain. Deciding he'd better come up with a quick plan or have mutiny on his hands, Darian held up a palm for silence. "Auria!" he snapped, interrupting the murmurs beginning amongst the rest of his startled men. "I say we investigate. Cautiously. Let us ride to the base of yon hill." He pointed to the large, grassy knoll a short distance away. "An' secure the harses. Then we shall see what manifests. Aye?" Thor and several others raised their swords and voices in boisterous agreement. "Aye!" True to their barbaric nature, they were eager to battle whatever evil visage presented itself. 22

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The rest, including Gavin, remained mute, seemingly pondering the possibility of whether or not they rushed headlong to their own demise as they followed their sire to whatever awaited them beyond. As they neared the hill, Darian motioned for them to slow down. He reigned in his steed a few yards away from where the ground began its ascent. "This is close enough," he surmised. After dismounting, he cautiously surveyed the area for anything unusual. Gavin and Thor rushed to his side as the others began setting up a temporary camp. "M'Lord," Thor began. "Allow me to go up first. I shall see what's—" "Nay," Darian refuted. "There's more power in numbers. We'll wait. Patience, my friend. I assure ya, my curiosity is as roused as yers." Albeit begrudgingly, Thor agreed and trudged off to help the others. "Darian, some of the lads might nae want to see what's up there," Gavin assessed gently as he walked beside him. "All are nae as eager as Thor to blindly embark into the unknown. Goetic forest lies just beyond—" "Then that's their choice," Darian cut in sharply. "An' what say you? Do ya stay with 'em?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow and fixed Gavin with a questioning glare. Darian knew the strange light was rather ominous, and that Gavin's insides were likely a jumble of unease. But would his friend let him face danger alone? Gavin was silent a long while, his thick, dark brows knitted together as though pondering their unsettling situation. "An' 23

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let you have all the fun?" he finally jibed, a nervous quiver in his voice. Darian was about to jest on Gavin's apprehension when he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck in a signal of warning. A chill crawled along his spine, making his entire body stiffen with alarm. Noticing the deep lines of alarm that suddenly etched his friend's handsome face, Darian's instinct prepared him for battle. Even before he turned, he knew there was something behind him. Gripping the hilt of his sword, he swung around to face his opponent. It was then he saw her. She was there, out of nowhere. As if... As if the sky had just opened up an' dropped 'er on that very spot. The wind murmured along the hillside, pressing the flimsy shift against her smooth, honey golden skin. It outlined her figure with startling clarity, rendering him speechless. Like a befuddled fool, he stared in wordless admiration. She was small, reed-like, and graceful with a natural, untamed beauty. A wealth of dark hair flowed from a center part and blew around her head in a billowing black aura. Firm, jutting breasts perched above a tiny waist. And gently rounded hips tapered into pleasing thighs and long, slender legs. Although her facial features were indistinct from the distance between them, the oval shape held a delicate strength that by no means lessened her obvious femininity. And her stance was proud, as though she owned the very 24

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ground she stood on. She looked ethereal, unreal from her goddess-like perch above him. Darian's eyes met hers, and in that instant he knew why he'd felt the need to travel to Havenwort. Kismet. It has to be. I was meant to find 'er. "God's teeth, mon! Do ya see that?" Thor rushed over to Gavin, pointing to the apparition on top of the hill. "I believe we all do. Nay?" Gavin rubbed his eyes and blinked as though in disbelief, seemingly not sure if he trusted what he saw or not. "Aye," Darian confirmed. "We do." "M'Lord! Up there!" another man shouted. And suddenly, all his armsmen became aware of the beautiful woman standing at the top of the steep hill. Darian knew an instant before her feet took flight she was going to run. He could see the fear in her step as she faltered backward, and could only imagine what she thought as she looked down upon his burly crew. He couldn't blame her. His men were excellent warriors, the finest stock in all of Zandar. They were versed in every manner of combat, brutal in warfare, and generally struck fear in the hearts of any who opposed them. As did he. Although Darian was an honorable man who exercised kindness and incorporated mercy into his method of rule— which, in the barbaric world of Zandar, were rare qualities for a man—he was also one of Zandar's most powerful Lords, and used to getting what he wanted, one way or another. Right now, with every fiber of his masculine being, he wanted her. And not even the gods themselves could stay his desire. 25

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Feeling power surge through his body, Darian swiftly unsheathed his sword and started for the hill. "Gavin, Thor!" he called over his shoulder. "Aye," they yelled in unison, close at his heels. A few others followed suit, while the rest merely watched in awe as the enchanting figure turned and fled. "I hope we catch 'er before she makes the forest," Darian heard Gavin call from behind. Aye, as do I. Notorious for its ghostly inhabitants and evil spirits, it was one of the last places on Zandar he wanted to be. Darian quickly made it to the top of the hill and rushed to the other side. It wouldn't take him as long to get down as it did coming up. The girl was just reaching the bottom. He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. She'll ne'er make the woods. An unwanted trickle of fear seeped through his veins. Irritated by the slight hint of weakness, he shoved it aside and slid down the hillside. Goetic Forest or not, he'd catch her and demand an explanation for her sudden and rather unnerving manner of appearance. He just hoped she was as mortal as she appeared and not some masked she-demon who, once captured, would set about unleashing her fury upon all their mangy heads. If there was one thing he'd learned during his thirty-two passes of life, it was that all females, human or not, could be surprisingly deceptive. Darian hadn't anticipated the girl being able to run so quickly. By the time he reached the bottom and was dodging 26

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through the quarry of boulders, she was more than half way to the trees. With a determined grunt, he pushed himself to move faster. "The wee lass ... is ... swift ... as a ... dire!" Thor panted from several yards behind, fatigue lacing his words. Although the sun beat down upon all them in a merciless blaze of suffocating heat, Darian's step was fueled by stubborn determination. It would take a lot more than a midday chase to wear him down. "Aye, that she is," he called back in a steady voice devoid of any exhaustion. The woman had reached the woodland edge and was searching for an inlet. Less than fifteen yards away, Darian watched as she chose a narrow pathway that looked too small for her, let alone be big enough to grant him passage. "Ya sure this is wise?" Gavin shouted when the girl disappeared through the trees. "Only a nymph would venture into those woods!" Ignoring Gavin's reservations, Darian rushed through the opening a few seconds later. He yelled for the girl to stop, but she continued without hesitation. Cursing the sting of the branches as they grabbed at his arms, he struggled down the trail behind her. She couldn't be more than thirty feet or so in front of him. He could just make out the color of her shift though the dense foliage. If only the brush wasn't so thick, he'd have a much better chance of catching her. Darian marveled at her dexterity, amazed by her ability to navigate so smoothly through the confusing labyrinth of overgrowth. Her sprightly frame was cursorial. But surely the 27

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gnarly tree arms were pulling her back and weighing her down as they did him. She couldn't be immune to their groping thorns. As he ran deeper into the bowels of the forest, the trees seemed to close in around him. The opposing limbs and smothering brush slowly choked out all discernible traces of the girl's fleeting form. The frantic crushing of leaves was all that proved she was even still there. Unable to see her, Darian had no choice but to follow his instinct and the sounds of her flight. When he reached an impassable tangle of vines and fallen limbs, his pursuit came to a sudden halt. How in Hades did she get by here? Darian looked around for an alternate route. But there were no other paths. Dropping to one knee, he spied a small opening underneath a thick, rotted trunk. The wench crawled under it! Although irritated with his unfortunate luck, he was also impressed by her quick resourcefulness. Determined not to be thwarted, he wrapped his arms under the decaying mass and hefted upward with all his might. At first the unwilling tree refused to budge, seemingly clenching on to its neighboring branches as if to prove itself immovable. Finally, with a defeated groan, it reluctantly gave, allowing just enough room for him to squeeze through. Then he was beating down the trail again. How much time was lost? What if I can't find 'er? A cold chill worked its way down his spine. Superstitious warnings rang though his head like chants of caution. But his supercilious pride refused to turn back and 28

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accept defeat. So he increased his speed, oblivious to the scratches and scrapes it cost him. Up ahead, Darian could see that the track widened. As he came to a fork in the path he stopped, momentarily indecisive. "Auck! May the gods curse this place fer givin' me such untimely luck!" He spat on the ground with disgust. Then his left hand knotted into a fist at his side. "Which way?" he demanded, as if expecting the trees to come alive and answer his question. Instinctively, his eyes drifted to the right, instantly noticing a tiny swatch hanging from an outstretched limb. "This way," it seemed to beckon, graciously giving him an unfair advantage. He paused only briefly to offer up a silent thank you to Zandar's gods, then raced down the path, following the tree's directions. Knowing she couldn't be that far ahead, his jaw clenched with a satisfied sneer. Kismet. I will catch you yet! At the next bend in the track, he saw her. Even though she was several yards away, Darian knew she couldn't outrun him. With a triumphant grunt, he lengthened his stride. She was frantically searching her surroundings, erratically darting from one spot to another as if confused. What's she doin'? He slowed his pace and watched as she strayed through the shrubbery. Ahh ... she's lookin' to hide. He ducked behind a large tree. Darian proceeded to follow the girl with caution, least she turn and see him. She obviously believed he was still trapped back in the brush, for she was no longer running and almost 29

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looked confident of her escape. He would simply wait until she chose her recess, then approach from behind. Just then, a twig snapped in the bushes to her right. She jerked toward the sound, fear contorting her features. With a sudden burst of energy, she bolted in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing from sight. "Namit!" Darian swore, tearing after her. **** Cheyenne knew. Even without looking behind her, she knew he was coming. She could hear his feet pounding the path behind her, steadily closing in. And there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide that he wouldn't find her. She urged herself to move faster, but her legs were so tired and her lungs felt as if they were about to explode. Fear's icy fingers clutched at her throat, squeezing it closed. Her breaths came in hoarse gasps, raspy and tight. But she didn't dare stop. As exhaustion settled in, her pace slowed. No! She felt on the verge of hysterics. Keep running! It was too late. The blow came from behind and the air was ripped from her throat as she hit the ground with a bonejarring thud. Cheyenne scrambled to her knees, desperately trying to get to her feet. But he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back down. "Let me go!" Terror sharpened her voice. Cheyenne kicked her feet and clawed at exposed roots as the man pulled her along the ground toward him. Then he rolled her onto her back and straddled her waist, pinning her 30

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beneath him. His face was mere inches from hers as he leaned forward, holding her hands by her head with his own. Seemingly satisfied that she couldn't escape, he casually scrutinized her with a hard, curious stare. Mustering all the strength she could, Cheyenne returned his inquisitive assessment with one of her own. He was ruggedly handsome, with a firm, generous mouth and straight, aquiline nose. The shadow of a beard along the chiseled line of his jaw gave him an even manlier aura. And the set of his square chin suggested a streak of arrogance. Yet, the strong features held a sensuality she found alluring. The color of his eyes was extraordinary—malachite-green flecked and ringed with gold. They sparkled with a gleam of interest that beckoned her to irresistibility. Entranced by their smoldering glow, she felt the startling twinge of newly awakened desire. His skin was deeply tanned by the wind and sun. Fine age lines about his eyes tailored his wisdom and muted his apparent youth. His hair was thick locks of amber honey that hung loosely about his shoulders in tumbling amber waves, and Cheyenne felt a strange urge to reach up and tangle her fingers in the golden tresses. He was a massive, self-confident presence with an air of authority and the appearance of someone who expected instant obedience. Just the rugged line of his profile bespoke of a commanding manner. Cheyenne could feel the power coiled within him, threatening to strike out against anyone who refused his demands. 31

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Suffocating heat emanated from his body, enveloping her in its overpowering strength. Every fiber of his being exuded pure masculinity, and she couldn't help but yield to his attraction. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. Cheyenne wondered what he was thinking as he quietly studied her with a guarded scowl. Would he kill her? Imprison her? Or worse? Unable to withstand his penetrating gaze, she turned away and her lashes fluttered closed, veiling the windows of her soul to his probing stare. "Who are ya?" His deep voice interrupted her scrambling thoughts. "How'd ya get here?" Cheyenne's body jerked. Her head snapped forward and she stared at him through blurry eyes, fighting back tears that threatened to break free. Once again, he spoke in that strange dialect, and once again, she understood every word. "I ... I don't know," she stammered, confused by the bizarre sounds coming from her own throat as she attempted to speak his language. "I remember leaving work, heading home to my apartment." She frowned, trying to make sense of the vague images swirling in her mind. "The wind was blowing so hard ... and the colors ... I think I fell and hit my head," she explained. "I thought I had a concussion. But ... when I woke up, I was here." Cheyenne's gaze darted to the looming trees and then to the brush. Panic flared when she spotted the deadly sword lying on the ground by her head. She looked up at the man hovering above her and recognized an expression of disbelief. "I swear I don't know where I am!" Distress sharpened her voice. "How can I explain how I got here?" 32

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Overwhelmed by fear, tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please," she begged in English. "You must believe me." The man glared at her though narrowed eyes. His dark brows knitted together as though he hadn't understood her last comment. And despite her desperate plea, he seemed unmoved by her anguish. "Right now, yer in the middle of Goetic Forest," he said evenly, his eyes steadily watching her face. Then he shifted his weight and eased his bulk on her small frame. Cheyenne was thankful for the relief. His bulk was crushing. She was still having some difficulty with his language, and wasn't quite sure what he was saying. Right noo? What's a noo? After a few seconds, it finally dawned on her. Oh, he means "right now." Mentally shaking her head, she tried to refocus on what he was saying, rather than how he was saying it. "Goetic Forest?" She searched her memory bank, but still couldn't come up with any reference to the name. "I've never ... ne'er..." she started, struggling with his dialect. "Are you sure?" she finally blurted, sounding like an idiot to her own ears. The man sat back on his hunches, releasing her arms completely. "Aye, quite sure." He glanced around nervously as if expecting something to leap out at them. "An' the sooner we get out of here, the better. We're presently just outside the boundary of Andreas Territory." Then he fixed her with a heated stare and his eyes squinted in disbelief. "How is it ya've nae heard of this forest?" he demanded, seemingly baffled by her honest 33

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naivety of their surroundings. "Everyone on Zandar knows to avoid this forsaken place!" His expression was perplexed as he pondered her in silence and stroked his chin between a thick thumb and index finger. Then his voice dropped to a mere whisper and he learned forward as if to keep his words a secret. "It's ... haunted." Cheyenne was beginning to wonder what kind of a game he was playing. Aye? Nae? An' the sooner we get oot of ear? It was all almost too much. She was starting to think this was some kind of a practical joke. People didn't talk this way. And she didn't find it amusing in the least. "Haunted?" Her tone was tight with skepticism. She briskly rubbed the blood back into her wrists as she silently regarded him for a long moment. Then her eyes narrowed with distrust. "I've studied world maps," she declared sharply. "Goetic Forest doesn't exist, and neither does Zandar, or your so called Andreas Territory." Did he think she was stupid? There was no Goetic Forest, no Zandar, at least not on her maps. Just what was he trying to pull? And why did he insist on speaking in that ridiculous language? Better yet, how did she understand it? Feeling something sharp press against her spine, she shifted her shoulders to relieve the pain. "I've never heard of Zandar or this forest," Cheyenne snapped. "I don't knoo how I got here. I don't knoo how to get back. And for that matter, who the hell are you?"

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Anger sharpened her voice with sarcasm. What right did he have to run her down and start demanding answers? She was just as confused and upset about all this as he was. How would he like to wake up in a strange place, practically naked, and have ... Remembering her current state of dress, she swallowed hard and shrank back against the ground. "Did you do this to me?" The question was scarcely a whisper. His dark brows slanted in a frown and he looked at her as though she were lame. A muscle worked along his jaw and the firm line of his mouth tightened a fraction more. The intensity of his stare made her tremble. Nervously, she moistened her dry lips. "Well?" she persisted in a quivering voice. Far off in the distance, a high-pitched howl pierced the air with sudden warning. The man lifted his head in alert and glanced over his shoulder. "We'll speak of this later," he announced, grabbing his sword and jumping to his feet. After resheathing his blade, he reached down and took hold of her arm. Then he pulled her up in one quick motion, ignoring her protesting yelp. "We must get out of here. It's nae safe. There are rumors of spirits..." Fear flickered across his handsome face as he looked up at the stygian canopy of trees. Cheyenne bit back a sarcastic remark about his haunted forest, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him in silence. From his considerable build to his barbaric weapon, 35

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everything about him was boldly intimidating. And she could tell he knew it. This was a man used having his way. It was obvious arguing would do no good. Besides, she didn't relish the thought of being stranded in this terrifying place. He might be afraid of ghosts, but she was afraid of wild animals. And that threatening howl made her uneasy. Cheyenne watched with mixed feelings of apprehension and excitement as his eyes boldly raked her skimpy attire. She felt naked and helpless beneath his thorough scrutiny. Her heart jolted and her pulse raced as desire crept into the depths of his seductive gaze. She'd seen that look before, and knew what it meant. She suddenly found herself extremely conscious of his virile appeal. Even at twenty-four years of age, she was still naïve in the manners of sexual intimacy. Schooling had always been her priority, not dating. And waiting until she got married was her number one rule. But Cheyenne was by no means blind to his attraction. Nor was she ignorant to the responses occurring deep within her own body. He radiated a vitality that drew her like a magnet, making her yearn for the touch of his hands upon her innocent flesh. What's happening here? Have I been drugged? Bells of warning clamored in her head, but she ignored them, choosing instead to focus on his seductive draw. Against her better judgment, she swayed toward him. Cheyenne's breath caught in her throat when his gaze dropped from her own to the scratches on her arms. She 36

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nearly swooned at his feet when he reached out and gently touched one, tracing it from her shoulder down to her elbow. For the first time in her life, rather than feeling unease, Cheyenne was mesmerized by the caress of a man's hand. "This needs medicine." His voice was husky and low, and his beautiful green eyes briefly flashed with unchecked desire. The very air around them seemed to sizzle with electricity. Cheyenne couldn't help the excited tingle in her belly as he trailed a lazy finger along her skin. A delightful shiver of wanting coursed through her insides, making her limbs quiver with nervous anticipation. She took note of his outstretched limb. His arm was muscular, strong, and sparingly covered with crisp, golden curls. His hand was large and square, with thick, long fingers that would easily dwarf her slender ones. A heated flush crept along her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his body pressed against hers. And she couldn't help but imagine how it might feel to be wrapped in those massive arms in an embrace of passion. Shocked by the vivid images that eagerly leapt to life in her creative brain, she cleared her throat and cast her eyes downward, trying to veil the shameful lust that likely burned in their depths. Her conscience screamed at her in outrage. What's wrong with you? How could you be attracted to this savage? You've probably been kidnapped, and who knows what he's— "I'll find ya some salve," the man stated abruptly, cutting into her thoughts and dashing the shamefully erotic images away. "I'm Darian, Lord of Castle Andreas. An' you are?" 37

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"Cheyenne," she mumbled, not believing what was happening to her. Can this be real? Can any of it be? She chanced to look up at him. He towered over her like an impenetrable mountain, colossal and daunting. Her knees grew weak and her legs began to buckle. Her stomach performed a strange little flip-flop, jumping and quivering as though she were on a fanatical roller coaster. She took a deep breath. Her heart seemed to have risen from its normal place in her chest and settled in her throat. It pounded through her teeth, strong and erratic. And she felt as if she might faint, preferring oblivion to whatever he might do to her next. **** Darian knew they needed to get out of there, but he couldn't help his curiosity. He regarded the girl's rebellious stance, his mouth softening as he took in the appealing feminine shape of her lithe body. The flimsy material of her shift offered him an almost perfect glimpse of her desirable figure, and he felt an instant tightening of his loins as lust flowed through his veins like molten lava, igniting an unquenchable fire deep within him. "When we reach camp..." he mumbled, struggling to keep his impulses at bay as he reached out to touch an angry red scrape on her shoulder. She was a mere slip of a girl, dark and fiery with amazing violet-blue eyes that called his attention. Her facial features were delicate, her mouth full and tempting. She had high, exotic cheekbones, an exquisitely dainty nose, and flawless 38

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brown skin that glowed with a pleasant bronze hue. She was, by far, one of the most stunning creatures he'd ever seen. Darian felt the sudden urge to crush her against him. His mouth longed to taste her soft lips, and his hands ached to touch her beautiful skin. With only the slightest pull, he could easily rip the flimsy gown from her shoulders and... Nay! He wrenched his wandering thoughts back to reality. We must leave. Now. Not wanting the moment to end, he lingered precariously, pondering her name. It was very unique, as was everything else about her. She was unlike any other woman he'd ever laid eyes on. And it made him more curious about her sketchy explanation. By now he'd come to the conclusion this girl was definitely not a she-demon. She hadn't exhibited any behavior more threatening than an outburst of tears. And unless she was masterful in the art of shape-shifting, her soft feminine curves were exactly what they appeared to be—real. But there was still something about her that didn't seem right. She didn't look like other Zandar women. Her coloring, her features, even her smell seemed foreign. And he found it very odd that she followed his language, when she obviously spoke another as well. Besides, women didn't just fall out of the sky. At least none that he knew of. So until she could give him a satisfactory explanation for how she'd gotten there and where she came from, he'd treat her with caution. Feeling his restraint reach an end, he dropped his arm to his side and took a step back. "When I commanded you to 39

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stop, why'd ya keep runnin'?" he asked, his tone coolly disapproving. "You completely disregarded my request. Do ya always ignore male authority?" "Would you have, if you were me?" She stared up at him through the thick, dark lashes that shrouded her stunning eyes. Darian didn't reply. He supposed she was right. Faced with her situation, he'd have run as if chased by a demon from Hades! Willing himself to behave, he reached out and curled his hand around her wrist with stiff possessiveness. No more time fer small talk. We have to get out of here. The he guided her back to the path that would lead them down the trail toward the rest of his searching gang.

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CHAPTER 3 It wasn't too long before one of Darian's warriors found them. "I thought we'd lost ya fer good," he huffed, rushing toward them. His face was etched with concern. "I wasn't sure what manner of creature..." The man paused when his gaze met Cheyenne's. Despite the tremulous quivering of her insides, Cheyenne returned the armsman's curious stare with artificial courage, openly assessing him as he did her. His hair was autumn brown and, unlike Darian's lengthy locks, cropped short around his face. Although it lay in a thick jumble of disorder, as though he'd recently risen from bed, she found it rather appealing, in consideration of his otherwise uncivilized features. Dark stubble covered his full upper lip, square jaw, and solid neck like grainy sandpaper. His thick brows were furrowed with an air of distrust. And bright blue eyes shrouded with dark lashes pierced her own as they appraised her with what appeared to be a mixture of curiosity and unease. She took note of his massive shoulders, broad chest, narrow hips, and long, thick legs. He was breathtakingly handsome. Almost as devastating as the golden Hercules beside her. Almost. Feeling her bravery begin to crumble, Cheyenne glanced away. Is this Zandar, as Darian so calls it, only populated 41

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with colossal males? Here she was, surrounded by not one, but two striking giants, and she couldn't find it within herself to feel anything but impending doom. Partially hiding behind Darian's massive frame, she nervously shifted from one foot to the other. Just then, another warrior burst from the brush further down the trail. Cheyenne's heart lurched in her throat and she shrieked in alarm. She'd half expected it to be some wild animal. The man instantly turned toward her scream. As soon as he spotted Darian, he hurried over. "Auck! I'm gettin' too old fer this nonsense," he gasped, leaning over to catch his breath. "My ol' ticker can't take..." His words trailed off as his gaze started at Cheyenne's perfectly groomed, pink toenails and worked its way up. When his curious stare reached her face, he smiled—a large, toothless smile that reached all the way to his aged eyes. "'Tis a strange creature with raven's hair an' startlin' eyes ya've found, m'Lord. Why, she be nothin' more than a wee bairn." He rested a beefy hand on one of the younger warrior's brawny shoulders. "A tiny waif with a fairy's face." Cheyenne silently appraised him. This man was significantly older. His cheeks were flawed with scars and a wiry, untamed beard hid his chin. His salt and pepper hair was secured at the nape of his neck and draped over one strong shoulder in a long ponytail. And bushy brows crested his expressive eyes, which held a gentleness foretelling honesty and compassion. Finding it difficult to feel frightened 42

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by his otherwise barbaric features, Cheyenne decided he was the least threatening of the three. She noted that both men spoke Darian's strange dialect. Yet, the more she heard it, the easier it became to understand, as if it were innate. But that simply can't be. Cheyenne crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to hide her breasts. She was grateful for the dirt and grime. It seemed to be serving as a camouflage to what lay beneath. Maybe if they think I'm just a young girl, they won't— "Perhaps, m'Lord," the brown haired man began. His eyes were trained on the curve of her hips, then moved to the swell of her breasts above her folded arms. "It might be wise in findin' 'er some proper clothin' before returnin' to camp where..." He paused, as though searching for the right word. "Curiosities are bound to be brewin'. Nay?" Darian stared down at her for a long moment, then grabbed his shirt by the collar and quickly pulled it over his head. "Put this on," he snapped, handing it to her. His voice was strangely hoarse. Cheyenne didn't know what Darian was so irritated about, but she graciously took the scratchy garment, thankful for the additional cover. She slipped it over her head and smoothed it down around her thighs. The material was odd, beige and rough, almost like uncured leather. But it was surprisingly thin, lightweight, and smelled pleasantly of musk. Her lids fluttered closed and she inhaled deeply. Another odor clung to the strange fabric. The fragrance was erotic, enticing, an overwhelming aphrodisiac. Cheyenne's eyes flew open as she realized with startling clarity that she was 43

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permeated with Darian's male scent. She also noted with irritation that the aroma was quite pleasant. Praying Darian didn't notice the pink color likely staining her flaming cheeks as he scrutinized her rugged apparel, Cheyenne glanced down at her bare feet. All three men had grown strangely quiet, as if debating on what they should do next. "That'll do, fer now," Darian stated flatly, his deep voice breaking the uncomfortable stillness in the air around them. "Let's get out of here." His hand clamped down around her wrist and he tugged her along beside him as they continued down the path in silence. The other two mutely followed behind. No doubt examining my backside at will. Cheyenne tried not to dwell on it and concentrated on walking as unfeminine as possible. **** Darian had to agree with Gavin. Thor's old eyes weren't what they used to be. Once he looked closely, he'd see the lass was no bairn. A fairy? Perhaps. With her delicate features and pixie-like form, it was possible. But definitely not a bairn. Her petite stature was deceiving. Even he'd questioned her age while chasing her sprightly frame though the brush. But when he'd tackled her to the ground and pinned her arms down, he'd seen the shape of her breasts under the thin material of her shift, and knew without question it was no child that lay beneath him. 44

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An image of dusky rose nipples pushing against the flimsy fabric flashed through his mind. He wondered how it would feel when those full, rounded globes were pressed into the palms of his hands. Would she moan and arch her back when he pulled her astride him and proceeded to— Auck! What am I thinkin'? The erotic picture he'd conjured drew an immediate reaction in his groin. Patience! Not at all pleased by his body's quick response, he chided himself for such lack of discipline. What's happened to yer control, mon! Trying not to dwell on her tempting features, he quelled the raging desire coursing though his veins and willed his untimely arousal to go away. It wasn't like he was a young lad, still green behind the ears. He was a grown man, and he'd had his fair share of beautiful women. So why did this one affect him so much? Perhaps she's a demon after all. Or mayhap a witch. Fer she seems to have put quite a spell on me. And as he pulled her along, he couldn't help but worry if he and all his men weren't doomed to fall under the subtle enchantment of this demure, yet tempting, siren. **** After what seemed like an eternity, they finally stepped out into light. "Auck! Bless the gods, I didn't think we'd ever make it out of there," the dark-haired man said. Cheyenne silently agreed. She'd never been happier to feel the sun upon her face. Although she didn't know what might 45

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happen to her next, she preferred to take her chances out here rather than face whatever it was in Goetic Forest that seemed to frighten Darian and his men. There were seven more warriors waiting for them at the base of the hill, their brawny frames lounging against the boulders as though bored. Instantly jumping to attention when they spotted them emerge from the forest, the men waved with relief. Darian raised a hand in response. At that moment, Cheyenne felt exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to lie in the soft grass, go back to sleep, wake up from this nightmare, and find that things were just as they should be—normal. How she longed for the welcoming comfort of her own bed. My own bed. Would she ever see her bed again? Her friends? Her family? Her home? Or had she truly been transported to this strange world with the possibility that she'd never leave. Wanting some answers, Cheyenne dug in her heels and wrenched her wrist from Darian's grasp. "Before I go another step, I want to know what's really going on here." She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him through narrowed eyes. Darian scowled at her. "We don't have time fer this," he growled. "I want to be at least halfway to Havenwort before we stop fer the night." Cheyenne glowered at the other two men. At first they looked at each other, then they turned to stare back at her, their faces etched with uncertainty. Neither one said a thing. 46

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"We'll speak of this later." Darian's voice was tight with warning as he reached for her arm. "No!" Cheyenne shot back, yanking it away. "I want to know where I am. Right now!" Darian didn't reply, but rather frowned at her in silence. It was obvious he had no intention of answering, so she trained her gaze on the older man, silently demanding an acceptable response. Seemingly confused, he glanced at Darian, who merely crossed his arms over his chest, shrugged, and said, "I dinna ken what the lass wants." Then the man turned back to her. "Yer ... standin' on Andreas—" he began slowly, as though not really sure what it was she asked. "I know I'm on Andreas Territory!" Cheyenne cut in sharply, nearly hysterical with frustration. She threw her arms out to the sides. "But where the hell am I?" His shaggy, salt and pepper brows drew together in a perplexed grimace. He stared at her a long moment, then his scarred face contorted into an expression of skepticism. "Why, ya be on Zandar, lassie," he finally replied, not bothering to hide the bewilderment in his voice. Cheyenne looked to the dark-haired man for confirmation. When he nodded his head in agreement, her eyes grew wide with disbelief. This isn't possible! "But how?" she cried in a voice tremulous with despair. "It doesn't exist. You must be mistaken." This just can't be!

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"Look," Darian began with seemingly forced patience. "I dinna ken how ya got here either. But I assure ya, it's real. We're all real." He took a step toward her and wagged a thick index finger at the tip of her nose. "But ya keep talkin' like that an' the others will think yer barmy. Now, let's get to the harses an' get away from here." He indicated the forest behind them with a nod. Cheyenne stubbornly shook her head and stepped back as she stared at all three men. "No. I'm not going anywhere until—" "God's teeth, woman, but yer a mulish wench!" With an irritated growl, Darian snatched her by the arm and swung her up over his shoulder. Then he started toward the hill with his two warriors in tow. **** Darian was tired of Cheyenne's rebellion. He knew she was terrified, he could read it in her lovely face. But he had an agenda to keep, with or without her cooperation. Ignoring her pounding fists and kicking feet, he carried her to the maze of boulders in fuming silence. Then he deposited her on the ground in a heap, not bothering to cushion her fall. She landed on her shapely butt with a shocked oomph! Cheyenne scrambled to her feet. "That wasn't very nice," she accused, rubbing her bottom. "Aye, I'm nae a nice mon," Darian returned. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him with dislike. "You've certainly got that right, buddy." 48

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Darian took note of her tiny fists as they balled at her sides with anger. The purple sparks flashing in her lovely eyes made her fury quite clear. He found her defiance rather amusing and strangely enticing. But now was not the time for indulgence. "Let's go," he barked, grabbing for her wrist. "An' I'm nae carryin' ya any further so no more silliness from ya." Cheyenne pulled free of his grasp. "I can walk!" Then she turned on her heels and started for the hill. Darian quietly followed along behind her. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched the sway of her hips while she stomped away. Mulish wench.

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CHAPTER 4 About half way up hillside, Cheyenne's pace faltered. With her strength wearing thin, her breaths became labored, coming in great gasps as she struggled to climb. "Can ya make it?" a young man to her left asked, his voice nervous as he glanced past her at Darian. Cheyenne looked at him through a bleary gaze. He looked significantly younger than any of the others. With his sandy blond hair, smooth jaw, and soft brown eyes, she imagined he couldn't be any older than sixteen or so. "I think so," she replied, not too sure if she could or not. But she was determined not to ask anyone for help, especially Darian. She felt the beginnings of a charley horse in her calf and the scratches on her arms were starting to burn as the sun's merciless rays beat down upon her skin. Her tongue felt thick, and swollen and beads of perspiration ran down her forehead. Easily recognizing the ominous signs of heat exhaustion, she knew she needed something to drink, soon. "What's wrong?" Darian's tone was laced with concern. Cheyenne turned to look at him. "Nothing. I'm fine." His brows knitted together as he stared at her. Then he surprised her by reaching out and running his thumb along her upper lip. "Yer skin's not right. It looks pale." "Thanks," Cheyenne muttered. Boy, you sure know how to knock a girl's socks off with the compliments! "I'll be all right." She turned her attention back to climbing. 50

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"I dinna mean to push ya," he said from behind. His voice was strangely tinged with guilt. "I know yer tired. But we're nae safe where we are. It's imperative we get as far away from Goetic Forest as possible before nightfall. There are thin's in this world that ... even I'll nae face after dark." "I said I'd be—" Cheyenne slipped. Letting out a small yelp as she started to slide backward, she frantically grasped for something to hold onto. Darian's strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him and stopping her fall. "Careful. Let me help ya." He steadied her feet before placing both hands on her hips and pushing her up the hill in front of him. Cheyenne tried to suppress the dizzying currents racing through her limbs as the warmth from his hands seeped through the flimsy material of her shift and radiated along her thighs. If she weren't afraid of falling, she'd demand he let her go at once. His touch was disturbing, awakening stirrings of desire in her blood and casting images of passion in her thoughts. She sighed with relief when they finally made it to the top and began down the other side. Halfway there. Begrudgingly, she allowed Darian to continue helping her, even though his hands had mysteriously slid up from her waist to just under the swell of her breasts. He's enjoying this! She fumed in silence. Rather than risk rolling down the hill and making a total fool of herself in front of them all, she bit her tongue and allowed his wandering fingers to remain. 51

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Once they reached the bottom, Cheyenne immediately pulled free of Darian's grasp and shot him a furious glare. Not bothering to see if he followed or not, she walked stiffly away, found a patch of billowy grass, and collapsed onto its welcoming softness. Athletic or not, she wasn't used to this much physical exertion and her body refused to go another step. Sweat poured down her neck, quickly saturating the dirty shift and making it cling to her like cellophane. The shirt was wet, too. Its thirsty fabric soaked up her perspiration until it hung on her tired shoulders like a lead weight. The sodden material was hot and suffocating, making her wish she could take it off. But she dared not. Her hope of keeping these men at bay was quickly disintegrating. And the last thing she wanted was to give them any more reason to stare. "Dinna get too comfortable," Darian advised, interrupting her pleasant daze. "We're nae stoppin' yet." He announced to the others that they would continue on toward Havenwort. Cheyenne looked at him in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding!" He smiled down at her, his straight, even teeth strikingly white against his bronzed face. She glared back at him with growing irritation. How can he be so good-looking and so damned inconsiderate at the same time? Oh yeah, I forgot, the cute ones always are. Maybe he was used to this grueling pace, but she sure as hell was not! She was just about to tell him what an arrogant ass he was when he suddenly tossed her what appeared to be 52

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a leather bag, turned on his heels, and strode away. The reprimand died on her lips as she stared after his appealing backside in stunned silence. Damnable man! Either he didn't care or he didn't notice her irritation with him. She bristled, more upset with her illogical attraction than his lack of perception. Of course, I really should try to be nice. He is the only one who might be able to help me get home. At least for now. Mentally shaking herself free of the fleeting trance, Cheyenne looked at the strange item in her hand. It was round and heavy. And when she turned it over, it made a sloshing noise, like it was filled with... Water! Can it be? She hurriedly found what appeared to be the cap, pulled it open, and raised the opening to her parched lips. The cool liquid slid down her throat with priceless refreshment. She quickly downed the bag's entire contents, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and leaned back onto her elbows, sighing with content. That was the best water I've ever tasted. Cheyenne didn't know how much time had passed as she lay on the soft grass, waiting for Sergeant Darian to announce it was time to leave. At that moment, she didn't care. The wind was gently blowing through her hair, the air was unbelievably fresh, and all she wanted to do was forget about everything else. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and let the warm sun wash over her face. She even managed to drown out the noises around her until she was alone in her own 53

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universe—just her, the vast open field, the vibrant touch of sunshine, and the serenity of nature's stillness. "Yer skins gonna burn, if ya stay that way," a deep voice commented smugly. Groaning inwardly as she recognized it as Darian's, Cheyenne cracked open one eye and looked up at the dominating figure before her. "You're blocking my sun," she snapped, trying not to let his hulking frame intimidate her. Before she could protest, Darian reached down, seized her arm, and pulled her to her feet. Then, without saying a word, he roughly guided her over to a shaded spot away from the horses and other men. "Stay here." He pointed to the ground. "An' dinna even think about runnin'. If ya do, I swear, next time I'll bind an' gag ya." He paused, as though reading the rebellious thoughts going through her head. Then leveled her with an intense stare of warning. "An' ya can be assured, I will catch ya," he added with a maddening tone of assurance. Cheyenne didn't reply; she just crossed her arms and glared steely daggers at him. An' dinna even think aboot runnin'. She mocked his words in her head. He has some nerve! Obviously, the men on this Zandar are just as big of jerks as the ones on Earth! "Fine!" She plopped down on the indicated spot with a huff, then turned her gaze to a distant spot on the horizon. She was glad when Darian stomped off to join the others. She wasn't sure how much more of his arrogance she could take without saying something she'd regret. 54

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As she watched the men pack up their belongings, Cheyenne discreetly studied their clothing. It was strange and mundane. And if she wasn't mistaken, most of it was made of animal skin and fur. Many of them wore shirts similar to Darian's. Others had on crude garments resembling vests. She also saw that every single man had a sword strapped to his waist and a dagger on his calf or thigh. So much for escape. The assessment brought a whole new frustration. Although none approached her, many of the men pointed and stared, speaking amongst themselves in hushed tones. Cheyenne felt all too vulnerable. Now I know how a zoo animal feels. She knew the only thing keeping these savages from her was Darian, but the realization wasn't exactly comforting. Who's going to protect me from him? Apprehension quickened her breath as panic began setting in. Despite the blistering sun, a violent shudder wracked her frame. Darian was willing to venture into a forest that he's terrified to be in just to catch me, so he obviously wants something. But what? Rape wasn't unlikely, especially from the way he looked at her and his body's obvious reaction, but it was probably the least of her concerns. For all she knew, he was going to sacrifice her to the Sun God or use her for some kind of peace offering to his biggest enemy. She shivered as all the horrible possibilities manifested at once, filling her mind with a multitude of undesirable outcomes. 55

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Feeling the weight of her predicament, Cheyenne was utterly terrified. And Darian frightened her the most. He was obviously in charge. She had no doubt her fate rested solely with him. An involuntary tremor passed along her body. "This can't be possible," she whispered quietly, suddenly realizing this was no dream. Everything around her was real, the grass, the air, the people, everything. Including him. Her gaze drifted to Darian. His broad muscular chest was covered with a light dusting of golden curls that trailed down his abdomen and disappeared into the waistline of his camel colored pants. She focused on them a moment, thinking they reminded her of Indian Buckskin, something she hadn't seen in a very long time. Cheyenne found herself appreciating how they clung to his lean hips, molding his corded thighs and detailing the large bulge in his groin. Her gaze darted away when he looked up and his sensual mouth curled into a knowing grin as he caught her appreciative stare. A nervous heat crept up her throat. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the image of his sweat-covered torso to disappear. But it was no use. She would forever remember how the muscles in his arms bulged and his chest rippled as he worked. Picturing those strong arms pinning her down once again, only this time in the throes of passion, Cheyenne gasped. Am I crazy? This man is holding me captive! She had no idea what he was going to do with her. How could she even consider such nonsense? 56

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**** Darian casually strolled over to where Cheyenne sat, cross-legged on the ground. He could see why Thor had misjudged her, she did sort of remind him of a bairn with her petite frame and dirty face. He stopped just a few feet in front of her, towering over her like a monstrous oak tree. When she looked up at him with innocent, almond-shaped eyes shrouded in a thick cloak of long black lashes, his heart clenched and his breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen anything more beautiful. Auck! The gods have either truly blessed me with exceptional luck, or cursed me to suffer a whole new misery. Running his fingers through his hair with a strange sense of nervousness, "We're ahh ... we're ready to go," he stammered, suddenly feeling like an awkward fool. He held out his palm and patiently waited for her to accept his assistance. Cheyenne cautiously put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up. Once on her feet, she jerked free of his grasp. But Darian was unaffected by her cold demeanor. His thoughts were elsewhere. He didn't trust her. He knew she'd try to escape again. He would have to keep a close eye on her. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. What was her work? Where was the place she spoke of as home? And if it wasn't on Zandar, then where the Hades was it? "Later," he mumbled, as he strode toward his waiting steed. "I'll have the answers then." 57

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**** Cheyenne followed Darian over to a huge, black stallion, instantly taking in the animal's striking features. Although she was no equine expert, this mammal was certainly bigger than any steed she'd ever seen. It closely resembled an Earth horse, but there were some subtle differences, and she couldn't help but study the creature as though she'd just discovered a new breed. Long silky hair that looked as smooth as her own grew from the animal's head, neck, tail, and ankles. Its mane sparkled with a shiny luster so pure the texture resembled a panel of spotless glass, and its color seemed more blue than black. With the exception of a perfect, silvery-white, six-point star on the bridge of the creature's nose, its entire body was covered with short, velvety fur the color of a raven's wing. Is this like a Clydesdale? She stared at the animal's sleek fur with awe. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it, stroke its downy, onyx coat. But she held back, intimidated by the beast's enormous size. When Darian cupped his hands and motioned for her to mount, she took a rebellious step backward. "You're joking, right? No way I'm getting on that thing! I may be part Indian, but that doesn't mean I know how to ride. I don't! I can't control—" "I dinna understand what Indian means, but ya willna be controllin' 'im. I will," Darian cut in flatly. "We'll be ridin' together. Unless of course, ya'd rather ride with someone 58

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else." He motioned to the rest of his band, already mounted and waiting on them. The horse shifted nervously, as though sensing her unease. "Easy, Mira," Darian whispered softly, patting the animal's neck reassuringly. Cupping his hands again, "What's it gonna be?" he asked, fixing her with an impatient glare. Peering around him, Cheyenne looked at the others. "Uh..." She wasn't sure what to say. She didn't relish the idea of sitting so intimately close to him. But then again, she didn't want to sit with any of them. Darian was grinning now, obviously sensing the cause of her indecisiveness. And his haughty smugness infuriated her. What an arrogant ... All right, I'll show him. Thinking she'd love nothing more than to slap that conceited grin right off his handsome face, Cheyenne clamped her lips tight, grit her teeth, and stepped into his palm. She was surprised at how easily she swung herself onto the stallion's back. When she'd righted herself, she straightened her back and looked down her nose at him from her high perch. A snooty smile played at the corner of her mouth. Darian stared at her in silence, an expression of shock and then admiration playing across his attractive face. After a long moment, he hefted himself up behind her. "Nice legs," he jibed, as though expecting to get a rise out of her. Cheyenne smoldered in silence when she realized how much skin she'd likely just flashed. And he obviously took no shame in noticing! 59

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If she'd thought sitting close to him would merely be uncomfortable, she was unprepared. As he settled himself behind her, she could feel his groin pressing against her backside. Cheyenne attempted to scoot up, but there was simply nowhere to go. "Do you have to sit so close?" she snapped. "I don't have any room." "Would ya prefer to sit on my lap?" he whispered next to her ear, and proceeded to grasp her hips and pull her bottom up off the saddle. "No!" She slapped his hands away. He immediately released her, letting her fall heavily back onto the hard seat. Cheyenne landed with a startled yelp, which brought a murmur of chuckles from their amused spectators. "No," she started again, regaining her composure. "I'll be fine like this, just don't touch me." "Suit yerself." His disappointment was apparent. Then he took hold of the reins. "Heeyah!" The stallion lurched forward with a sudden jerk and Cheyenne had to grab onto the front of the saddle to keep from being unseated. Darian's mocking chuckle raked her nerves. He did that on purpose! The insufferable clod, the chauvinistic— "Ya know," he began smoothly, interrupting her murderous thoughts. "If ya sit so stiff the entire way, yer gonna be real sore. We've a long ride before we make camp. I'd like to be as far away from this place as possible."

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"I'll be fine!" Cheyenne continued to lean forward, trying to put as much space between them as possible. Her arms were already protesting and her back ached. If I don't fall off and break my neck. She peered over the horse's massive shoulders, eyeballing the distance to the ground with growing fright. Lord, we must be six feet high! Darian reached around her waist with one muscled forearm and jerked her back against him. "Ya might nae care if yer uncomfortable," he hissed. "But yer makin' my harse miserable, an' I do care." Cheyenne hadn't thought about the edge of the saddle cutting into the stallion's neck. Rather than fight with him and give the rest of his crew further cause to jest, she reluctantly gave in and relaxed back against him. "Much better," he murmured, his mouth bare inches away from her ear. His lips brushed against her lobe and the warmth of his breath on her neck sent chills down her spine. "Just don't get any ideas," she warned, wondering why there were butterflies in her stomach. Nerves, she reassured herself. That's all it is. This man scares the hell out of me.

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CHAPTER 5 A few hours of relentless riding had passed when Cheyenne noticed Darian's arm was no longer around her waist. It had slipped downward, and his hand now rested on her right leg. As though sensing her unease, his finger began drawing lazy circles along her heated flesh, making her squirm. Cheyenne shifted uncomfortably, hoping he'd remove it. He didn't. Instead, he proceeded to rest his left hand, the one holding the reins, on her other leg. When she started to protest, he clicked his tongue and dug his heels into the stallion's side. Mira immediately broke into a gallop, and Cheyenne was forced to hang onto Darian's forearms for balance. She didn't like this. She didn't like it one bit. And worse, her body seemed bent on betraying her. The more her mind told her to lean forward, to remove his hands from her legs, to fight against him, the more she relaxed back and pressed her bottom against him. The rhythm of the horse's footfalls caused her backside to brush seductively against the hardened form in his groin. They seemed almost of one person, their bodies so close they molded together. If it weren't for their clothing, she imagined they would be. Cheyenne suddenly felt hot, her breaths strained, as if she were suffocating. How long had they been riding? It seemed like an eternity. 62

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His right hand, no longer content to remain in one place, had slipped under the hem of her shift to set about the task of torturing her inner thigh. Ever so slowly, he inched toward her feminine vee. The rough skin of his fingertips was a stark contrast to her sensitive flesh, yet she found the disparity pleasant. Albeit her sexual innocence, her body responded with the native instinct that passes down through all generations of womankind. And she seemed powerless to stop it. Against her better judgment, Cheyenne's head leaned back onto his chest. She knew he was aroused. The rigid form pressing against her backside was obvious. He wanted her. There was no doubting it. And I want him, she realized with startling clarity. The admission was dredged from a place beyond all logic and reason. Right or wrong, it was an apparent fact. This is crazy! You're getting yourself into trouble. This one won't take "no" for an answer. You're leading him on! But his hand was doing such wonderful things on her inner thigh and ... Ohhh ... it feels so good! **** Darian knew he should stop. Desire raced through his veins like liquid fire, and he was so hard his manhood was throbbing, erasing all traces of rational thought. He'd let his needs go unsated for far too long. Surely the way her flesh trembled beneath his fingers meant she was an innocent. An' that makes 'er all the more 63

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temptin'. His fingertips brushed against the soft curls of her feminine vee. Curse the gods; I want 'er! He knew if he didn't stop, he'd either go mad, or send the rest of his band ahead while he took her right there. The idea was enticing. He could just... Auck! Yer losin' yer head, mon. Get it together! He still wasn't sure who or what she was. And until he did, he had to suppress his needs. Begrudgingly, he removed his hand from her inner thigh. He needed to get away from her for a while, get control of himself. "We'll stop there," he called back to his men, pointing to the large pond in front of them. **** Cheyenne couldn't help but feel disappointed when Darian removed his hand from her tingling flesh. Even though he was a barbarian, even though there were spectators who would no doubt take great pleasure in watching him deflower her, and even though he'd more likely than not be a brutal lover, she wanted him to continue. Just for a little while longer. No one had ever made her insides quiver that way. No one had ever made her skin prickle with need. And she couldn't help but want more. You're playing with fire, a voice of reason chimed. And I'll surely get burned, she acknowledged, trying to bring forth the sensible woman inside her who seemed to have gotten lost within a sea of raging hormones and newly awakened desire. 64

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Cheyenne studied the massive pool up ahead. It was nearly as wide as a small river. She wondered how deep it might be. It butted up against what appeared to be a small forest. I didn't even notice the changing terrain, she realized with a start. Her attentions had been completely focused on Darian and his wandering hands. "Where are we?" "A wee more than half a day's ride from Havenwort," Darian replied. "Oh, well, that's helpful." She snorted with annoyance. "Why are we stopping?" "The harses are tired." His response was tight, and a little harsher than necessary. Cheyenne didn't understand why he was angry with her. She should be mad at him for taking advantage of her. He'd nearly forced himself on her. But she knew that wasn't quite right. She'd let him touch her, encouraged him even. She could have protested, but didn't. She was just as much to blame. But I'll be damned if it'll happen again! she fumed, determined to get her renegade hormones back in order. Darian reigned in his horse close to the creek and dismounted. Then he reached up, encircled her waist with his hands, and easily lifted her from the saddle. When her feet were safely on the ground, he immediately let her go, as though not wanting to touch her any longer than necessary. Almost instantly, Cheyenne's legs gave out from beneath her and she fell forward against his bare chest. Instinctively, 65

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her arms wrapped around his torso to keep from landing on her face. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his hot skin. "I told you, I've never ridden before." Darian was quiet for a long moment. Then she felt him draw in a slow, ragged breath. "Are you all right?" she asked, her arms still locked on his midriff. Cheyenne chanced to look up at his handsome face. His eyes were closed and his expression was strangely pained. "I didn't mean to..." Her words trailed off as she felt his hardened shaft press against her belly. "Yer breath is like tiny flitterby kisses against my flesh. An' the tinglin' will surely drive me barmy." His words were scarcely a whisper. "What?" Cheyenne wasn't quite sure she'd heard him right. Her heart hammered in her chest with a mixture of panic and excitement. Darian cleared his throat. Then he looked down at her with a mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. "Aye, yer inexperience is apparent." A small grin tugged at the corner of his firm mouth. Cheyenne wasn't sure, but she thought there might have been some implication to her sexual naivety in his comment. Am I that readable? But that was something she'd have to think on that later. Right now, she had to figure out a way to gracefully detach herself from the front of him without looking any more of a fool than she already did. And she wasn't quite sure how to do so. 66

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Before she could react, Darian hefted her up in his arms and carried her to a grass laden area by the pond. Then he gently set her down by the water's edge. "Stay here. I'll find some salve fer yer wounds." Cheyenne had forgotten about the insignificant scratches. She was horrified as she examined herself. She looked like she'd gotten into a wrestling match with Milo and lost. Milo! She'd forgotten about her precious cat, too. Thank God she had a roommate. Surely Aimee would remember to feed her. Sadly, she wondered if they'd even realized she was missing. Leaning over the water's glistening surface, she peered into its reflective sheen. Her hair was wild, the disheveled black tresses knotted and tangled around her shoulders in an impossible mess. Her face was streaked with grime. And her eyes were weary. Ugh! Cheyenne glowered at her image with disgust. Darian must be desperate! "After we set up camp, I'll arrange fer the others to leave so ya can get cleaned up," Darian said, walking up behind her. Was that a hint? "And what about you?" she called over her shoulder. "Are you going to leave or will I have to bathe with you watching?" Although she wanted to be sarcastic, her voice sounded strangely inviting. Cheyenne turned to face him. Their eyes met for a long moment. Feeling her cheeks redden with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze to the small metal bowl in his large hand. 67

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Darian kneeled down in front of her, his expression serious. "It's nae safe fer ya to be out here alone." Then his mouth curled into a roguish grin. "But I dinna mind watchin', if that's what ya'd like. I'd even be willin' to join ya, if ya'd ask real nice." Cheyenne fought the urge to slap the infuriating smirk off his handsome face. "You, mister, are too sure of yourself," she sputtered. "I'd prefer to take my bath without you anywhere around. Being with you hasn't proven to be so safe either. I'd rather take my chances alone." Darian didn't reply, just smiled and proceeded to rub the salve onto her scraped calves. Ever so slowly, his hand moved upward, encroaching once again on dangerous territory. The rough strokes became gentle caresses, seductive and tender. Cheyenne held her breath. Stop him! Her conscience screamed with alarm as his hand once again disappeared under the bottom edge of her tattered chemise. "I think I can do the rest myself," she choked out, finally finding her rationality. He handed her the salve and shrugged. "Suit yerself." His tone held a slight air of displeasure. Then he stood and walked away. What's wrong with me? I must be nuts. Cheyenne shook her head with disbelief, trying to shake out the silliness that seemed to have taken over her common sense. You keep leading him on and you're going to be sorry, a voice of reason warned. 68

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"I know," she replied softly. "And if I keep talking to myself, he's really going to think I'm barmy!" She couldn't help but giggle at the use his word. Then her focus turned to the remaining goop. Wrinkling her nose with aversion, Cheyenne finished rubbing the gluey salve on her wounds and set the bowl aside. She watched as the men quickly worked to set up camp. When they were finished, they grabbed an assortment of barbarous weapons and headed toward the woods. Only Darian and the brownhaired man remained. As though sensing her stare, the man turned to face her. At first he seemed startled, his handsome features a mask of unease. Then he offered her a hesitant smile and started toward her. "Are yer legs okay? Uh ... I mean the scratches, are they better?" He stammered as though he were uncomfortable around her. "Much better, thank you. What is this stuff?" She pointed to the bowl containing the sticky green goo. The man relaxed a little. "It's called Alke, ya get it from a plant. It's very good fer cuts." Then he kneeled down beside her, resting an elbow on his knee. "Ya see, ya take the plant an' split open the leaves, then ya slide yer thumb doon the middle an' scoop out the nectar. That's where it comes from." He used his hands to demonstrate. Cheyenne smiled, deciding she liked this man after all. With his awkward manner and nervous stutter, he seemed 69

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almost as uneasy as she was, unlike his portentous leader who didn't seem to have an insecure bone in his entire body. And what a gorgeous body it is. Her mind suddenly recalled his sweat-covered torso and she gulped in response, willing the enticing image away. "We uh ... We have something like that where I come from," Cheyenne replied, forcing her attention back to the man before her. "It's called an Aloe Vera plant. We use it for burns." He nodded, as though agreeing with its use. Then his cheeks reddened and he looked away, seemingly at a loss for further conversation. After a long, uncomfortable silence he started to rise. "I should get back to—" "My name is Cheyenne. What's yours?" "Gavin," he replied with a nervous grin. Cheyenne smiled warmly in return. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be so difficult. But I really don't know where I am. Or how I got here." Gavin nodded. "Aye, I believe we're all a might confused about you as well." "This place we're going, is it where you live?" Gavin chuckled. "Havenwort? Nay, just to visit. There's a particular brothel ... Uh ... tavern. We're goin' to Brigette's," he finished hastily. His cheeks flamed once again. "I see." Cheyenne's reply was curt, and sounded more irritated than she'd wanted. She knew what he meant. They were going to a whorehouse.

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Glancing over at Darian who was seemingly engrossed in grooming his stallion, she wondered if he was going to see someone in particular. Strangely, the thought bothered her. Then another possibility presented itself. Cheyenne's stomach turned at the prospect. Was he going to sell her to the owner? Force her into prostitution? Maybe that's why he'd stopped before, a virgin would surely bring a higher— "From whence do ya come?" Gavin asked, interrupting her escalating thoughts. "Is it far?" Cheyenne almost bust out laughing. Far? That's probably an understatement. "Well," she began. "I live in the small town of Tucson, Arizona." His expression was puzzled, as if she'd spoken in a foreign tongue. But Cheyenne knew she'd carefully sounded out his dialect. "The ... United States of America," she offered, hoping to clarify. He raised a questioning brow in response, seemingly just as perplexed as before. "Planet Earth?" she tried again. I really am an alien! Cheyenne chided herself for the untimely bout of sarcasm. Gavin jumped to his feet, a look of shock and then excitement contorting his handsome features. "Did ya say Earth? Ya come from Earth?" It was more a demand than a question. Realizing his reaction was sincere, Cheyenne jumped up too. "You've heard of it? Do you know how I can get back?"

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Her optimism grew by the second. Perhaps he could help. "Please, I just want to go home. If there's any way at all, you must tell me!" **** When Gavin had approached the woman lounging by the stream, he really hadn't known what he'd say. He'd never been good with women, at least not with words. But he'd thought he should at least introduce himself and check on her wounds, since he was the only one amongst them who seemed to have a knack for healing. But now that he'd learned of her origin, he was practically speechless. He glanced over at Darian who had stopped what he was doing to scowl in their direction. Their eyes locked in a silent agreement of understanding. Darian solemnly nodded his head. He'd heard every word as well. This is amazin'! Gavin marveled at the girl's revelation. He thought the old prophecy was just a story made up to warp the minds of young lads, but here she was. Of course, the lass could be lyin'. She could be some runaway slave lookin' fer a place to hide. Somehow though, he didn't think so. She seemed too different. And then there was that strange light, like a portal or opening to ... Another world! But until they knew for sure, he thought it best to play dumb. "Uh ... the Earth I knew was just a fairy tale," Gavin declared flatly, scratching his head in feigned bewilderment. "It doesn't exist." With that he strolled away, abruptly ending 72

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their conversation.

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CHAPTER 6 Cheyenne stared after Gavin in dazed confusion. What just happened? Did I say something wrong? For a brief instant, she thought she might have found an insight to this crazy mystery. Gavin knew something, that was obvious. But for whatever reason, he chose not to share it with her. Why? She looked over at Darian. His eyes were hard, his face set in a stony frown. It was him! He had something to do with Gavin clamming up. Cheyenne clenched her fists. Meddling man! She squinted, trying to give him the best I hate you look she could muster. But he merely smiled in return, seemingly undaunted by her effort to be intimidating. Crossing her arms over her chest, Cheyenne turned her back and glowered at the sparkling pond for several long moments. He'll probably convince Gavin that I'm making it all up. That I'm some dim-witted female who concocted that story to— "If yer ready to take a bath now, the others are gone," Darian declared, silently slipping up behind her. Cheyenne nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped around, ready to give him a verbal what-for when she suddenly found herself staring at the most glorious sight she'd ever laid eyes on. An involuntary shudder passed through her body as his image filled her vision, becoming the only tangible object occupying her conscious mind. 74

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The sun was beginning to set, radiating an orange glow to the world around her. Its long rays stretched across the ground, seemingly gripping with all their might as though unwilling to let go of the day. And Darian was standing directly in their path, illuminated in a brilliant, ocherous haze. Flaming shards from the dying sunlight cast highlights through his thick hair. The evening wind spirited the amber tresses, gently blowing them around his head and making them come to life in a splendid, flaming aura. He truly looked like a fiery Greek God. His wide chest seemed even wider with dark shadows lengthening across its expanse. Cheyenne imagined how wonderful it might feel to run her hands along the chiseled contours of his torso, touching and caressing every inch, exploring and memorizing every crevice. She gulped when her eyes met his. May God help me. Her mouth opened to speak and her lips moved in some semblance of speech, but sound escaped her. All that came out was a long breath that left her lips in a gentle, whispered sigh. Never had the sight of a human torso affected her the way his did. As though irritated by her ridiculous daze, Darian shoved a crude bar of soap and dingy cloth at her, instantly breaking the spell. "Here." His tone had an air of impatience. Cheyenne fumbled to regain her composure. She blinked repeatedly, trying to conceal the raging desire that likely burned in their depths. "I was waiting for you to leave," she snapped. 75

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Darian shrugged, as though pretending not to see her appreciative stare. "Suit yerself, but I've no intention of leavin'. If yer nae gonna use this..." He motioned to the soap and rag. "I will." He walked past her and set the supplies on a nearby rock. Then he proceeded to take off his dusty boots. He was just reaching for the leather stays on his pants when Cheyenne interrupted him. "I'm not taking a bath in the same ... pond as you." Her voice rose an octave in alarm. "I don't trust you with your clothes on, let alone with them off. So when you're finished, you can leave and then I'll—" "When I get done, the others will be returnin'. If ya want to get cleaned up, do it now." With that, he yanked down his pants, ignoring her astonished gasp. Then he kicked them aside and proudly stood naked before her, with all his glorious bulging muscles, powerful limbs, and fiery hair. As though he felt no shame in his indecent action, he placed his hands on his hips in a stance of arrogance and gave her an impish grin. "Oh! Jeez!" Cheyenne quickly turned away, her face burning with embarrassment. She couldn't believe he'd just done that. He'd ... exposed himself to her. What a pervert! Of course, he was rather appealing. Even though she hadn't really seen a whole lot of naked men in her life—unless you counted her male patients, many of which had been beyond what one might consider their virile years—he seemed to be generously endowed. Actually, he was quite frightening. 76

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My God! What am I thinking? I shouldn't be dwelling on him or his ... parts. I should be planning a means of escape. Trying to look anywhere but back at him, she contemplated the open range behind them. Wouldn't now be a good opportunity? She noticed Gavin was nowhere in sight. Darian would have to re-dress before coming after her, giving her a few extra moments' head start. Instead of reminiscing about his manhood, I should be running! The thought was tempting. But where would she go? The forest was crawling with his henchmen. And she'd never be able to outrun him on foot, head start or not. I'm trapped. Cheyenne's fists knotted into furious balls. "Why'd you do that?" she demanded, angry at God for putting her there, angry at Darian for being so damned good-looking, and even angrier at herself for noticing. "That wasn't very—" "Are ya sayin' ya didn't enjoy it?" he returned snidely. She grit her teeth. The defiant part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she wouldn't allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Obviously, he was totally full of himself. Well, she'd be damned if she were going to let him know how much the sight of his body had affected her. Conceited, arrogant, egotistical ... there isn't a name vile enough to describe him! She'd have to make one up later, when he wasn't standing so close and looking so damned incredibly tempting. 77

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Cheyenne glanced down at her pathetic and shapeless clothing. The hem of her shift barely peeked out from beneath Darian's monstrous shirt. I do look like a rag-a-muffin and really needed a bath. She jumped when a loud splash resounded behind her. She wasn't sure how long she could handle being around this man. He made her feel as if every nerve was on edge. She would no doubt come unglued if he shocked her any more than he already had. Cheyenne was sure there were many surprises to come. Darian was unlike any man she'd ever met. Or, I dare say, ever will again. "If I promise nae to look, will ya come in?" His deep voice was tinged with a silken purr. Cheyenne hesitantly turned around, afraid he'd be standing in the shallows, totally revealed to her. She was little disappointed when he wasn't. Chiding herself once again for such irrational thoughts, she decided being clean was preferable to smelly. "You have to turn around until I get in. And go over there." She pointed to a rock laden spot in the middle of the massive pool. "If you come near me, I swear I'll scream." Cheyenne snorted as she realized the irony of her claim. Like that would make a difference. He wasn't stupid. If she screamed, then all his fellow barbarians would come running to watch him do whatever he was going to do to her. She might as well take a chance and pray he was gentleman enough to keep his word. 78

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"Auria, auria." Darian held his hands up in mock surrender. He waded over to the spot she'd pointed out and stood patiently with his back toward her while she undressed. All right my ass. Cheyenne quickly pulled the chemise and shirt over her head. I don't trust you one bit, Lord Darian of Castle Andreas. Not one little bit! She silently slipped into the water, cringing as her feet sunk into the muddy bed. "Oh yuck." The soft mire squished between her toes. The bottom was deeper than expected. Within a few yards, the surface rose to just under her chin. "Ok, I'm in. But you stay over there!" Darian turned to face her, a mischievous grin contorting his handsome features. "Well, ya see," he began, slowly moving in her direction. "This poses a problem." Cheyenne stiffly held her ground. Panic began settling in her limbs and she felt an almost overwhelming urge to bolt. "Darian, I'm warning you. If you come any closer, I'm going to scream." "I dinna think ya want to do that. If ya scream, the others will come runnin', an' yer quite naked. I'm sure they willna mind, but I really hate to share." He was only a few feet away from her now, and steadily closing in. The cool water lapped at his ribs as he advanced. "Besides, I have this." He held up the soap. Cheyenne's breath escaped in one big, relieved whoosh. Keeping one arm and hand protectively draped across her breasts, she cautiously held out the other for the soap. She 79

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knew it was only a matter of time before he tired of toying with her and this little game turned serious. Perhaps when they got to Havenwort, he'd lose interest. She just prayed she could keep her own wits about her long enough to put him off until then. She hadn't been very successful thus far. Seemed all he had to do was give her one smoldering look and she was ready to jump into his arms. Grinning broadly, Darian placed the bar in her waiting palm. "See, that wasn't so bad. Was it? I haven't ravished ya." Cheyenne bristled at his sarcasm. Although she wasn't normally a violent person, once again, she had to resist the urge to smack the irritating sneer off his face. There's something about this man that really gets under my skin. "No, not yet anyway. Now go away." She made a shooing motion with her hand, then turned away from him. After a few moments, Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder. Darian wasn't anywhere to be seen. Good, he's gone. She sighed with relief. Feeling a little more confident of her security, she took her time lathering her hair. Then she carefully scrubbed the grime from every inch of her body. It felt so good to be clean again. Every once in a while, she'd look around to see what Darian was up to, but he seemed to be ignoring her. He kept his distance, disappearing and reappearing from the water's surface every so often. It wasn't until she felt something brush against her leg that she became suspicious. "What the?" Feeling it again, she yelped with alarm. 80

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Cheyenne searched the murky water around her. She thought she saw a large shadow, but it was gone before she could tell what it was. Glancing around for Darian, she noticed with exasperation that he was nowhere to be found. Some protector! Another movement against her leg called her attention. Cheyenne shrieked. "There's something in here, and I'm getting out!" She dropped the soap and rushed toward the shore. Just then, something seized her ankle and yanked. Her scream was cut off when her head disappeared under the water's surface. After a few seconds, she came up coughing and sputtering. Frantically pulling the hair out of her face to see the beast that attacked her, her fear instantly turned to outrage when she heard Darian's mocking snicker. It was him! He's been swimming under the water to look at me! "You ... You sneak! You've no manners what so ever. You're a liar and a ... a..." With a frustrated growl, Cheyenne shoved a heavy lock of hair back from her forehead and lunged at him, no longer caring that neither one of them had on a stitch of clothing Darian threw his head back and roared with laughter when her body impacted his in a furious mode of battle. "By the gods! Yer absolutely beautiful when angry." He easily caught her wrists before she could do any real damage. Not that her pummeling fists could hurt him. "Calm doon before ya hurt yerself," he commanded, chuckling at her livid outburst. 81

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"To tell ya the truth, I really couldn't see very much. This damn water is too cloudy. But I did find the soap." He briefly held up the bar so she could see it, and then threw it onto the shore near their clothes. "'Tis lucky I seen ya drop it, I didn't brin' another." Calm doon? Cheyenne wanted to scream. She didn't care how cloody the water was. I'm sure you got an eyeful of more than just the soap! She struggled a moment longer and then fell still. It was a lost cause. She knew he was too strong. Instead, she turned her efforts to glaring at him through narrowed eyes. She was getting pretty good with her I hate you look, but he wasn't paying any attention. His gaze was cast lower. Cheyenne looked down and gasped in horror. They were no longer standing in deep water. Here the surface only came to the bottom of her ribs. Her breasts were completely exposed, and he took no shame in staring. With renewed strength, she struggled vehemently. "Let me go!" She wrenched her arms, trying to break free. Darian ignored her. Pulling her against him, he circled one thick forearm around her body and pinned her wrists behind her back. Then he lowered himself down into the water and began to wade out farther, dragging her with him. He took her out to the deepest part of the pool, behind the pillar of rocks, and successfully concealed them from any other onlookers. "I found this spot earlier," he declared triumphantly. Then he released her and stepped back, as though waiting to see what she would do. 82

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Cheyenne stretched her toes downward, reaching for the bottom. But the water was too deep. "I ... can't ... touch ... here," she choked out between mouthfuls of fluid. She was so nervous she could barely keep her head above the surface. He rewarded her with a knowing grin. "Hmm..." Wrapping his hands around her waist, he held her up so she wouldn't have to continue treading. "Is that better?" Not knowing what else to do, she put her palms on his shoulders. "Why'd you bring me out here? You promised to stay away." Cheyenne knew she was babbling, but she couldn't help it. She was scared to death. This was a dangerous situation, one in which she was nearly helpless to escape. Suddenly, the water felt icy cold around her, and she began to tremble. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breaths became gasps, and her mind was in a dizzying whirl of alarm. He's too close. This was a bad idea. You never should have trusted him. "I want to—" "Hush." It was more a lusty request than a harsh command. Darian's hands slid down the curve of her lower spine and cupped her bottom. Pulling her up against him, he leaned his head down and captured her lips. Cheyenne didn't know what was happening. Her mind told her to run, kick, scream, anything to get away, but her body was determined to respond. A soft moan formed in the back of her throat as his tongue darted in and out of her mouth, bravely tasting her essence. Finally ignoring her head, she gave herself up to his skillful rapture. 83

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Her whole body eagerly leapt to life as if it had been dormant, patiently waiting for the right man to release the passions deep inside. He'd awakened feelings of longing and desire she never knew existed within her. This new experience was alarming and exciting at the same time, making her eager to know more. Suddenly, she wanted ... no, needed to know what making love could feel like. Primal hunger surged through her veins, making her heart pound with the erratic rhythm of mounting passion. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself even closer. He was so warm, so hard, so strong. She didn't care if she hated herself later, right now, her whole being yearned for fulfillment, and only he would suffice. **** Darian's mouth moved gently over hers in a tender caress, skillfully tasting her sweetness while, at the same time, trying not to frighten her any more than she already was. She resisted him at first, her body as stiff and unrelenting as a concrete statue. But then he felt her hesitant surrender, and it was all the invitation he needed. Ever so slowly, her hands slipped up his chest and laced behind his neck. Her hips gravitated toward him, shyly molding against his. And when her lips finally parted, granting him access to the inner labyrinth of her sensual mouth, he found it increasingly difficult to restrain himself. When he heard the soft, surrendering sigh escape her throat, he found himself quickly losing grasp of logical reason. 84

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His mouth turned hard and demanding, moving over hers with fevered urgency. All thoughts of Earth, her strange appearance, and his unanswered questions were lost as desire took over his actions. When he was no longer content with her lips, he trailed hot kisses down her neck, pausing only momentarily to nuzzle the delicate curve of her throat before moving on to his next target. Then he lifted her up, exposing her breasts to his raging hunger. Capturing a sensitive, rosy tip between his teeth, he nipped at it gently. With her bottom supported on his forearm, his other hand was free to explore. He curled his fingers around one full, rounded globe, wrapping them along the soft contour with precision. Testing its weight, he gently lifted and massaged it, while his thumb dutifully rubbed across the nipple until it became a tiny, hardened pebble. Drawing the taut peak into his mouth, he proceeded to torture it with expert skill and relentless persistence. His tongue darted out, tantalizing the tip until it swelled to its fullest. When he was satisfied he'd spent enough time with one, he moved to the other, studiously renewing her torment. **** Cheyenne arched her back, pushing her tingling flesh farther into his mouth. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her hips thrust forward as she felt a climatic tingling ignite between her thighs. Feeling as though she were about to explode, she stiffened in preparation. 85

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Then she heard her own voice in her ears as she let out a low, guttural moan. It shocked and frightened her, hurtling her back to reality with callous clarity. As quickly as it had started, the wonderful sensation ceased, and she realized she was on the verge of a catastrophe. What's happening here? You have to stop him! If she didn't do something they would... "Darian, stop. Please. I can't do this. It isn't right. I don't even know you." She pushed against his chest with her palms. Darian looked at her as if she'd just struck him with more than words. The pained expression on his face filled her with guilt. Cheyenne knew it was her fault. He was almost past all reasoning, and she had led him there. If she didn't end it right now... Unwilling to heed her plea, his green eyes sparkled with renewed determination and his head dipped forward, aiming to capture her mouth once again. "Please, let me go." Cheyenne tried to pull away from his steely grasp. "The others will be back soon. I don't want to do this. Not here. Not like this. Please." **** Darian almost howled with frustration. Auck! Surely she doesn't mean it! Part of him wanted to ignore her request. He knew he could persuade her, even without force. But the other part knew it would be wrong. He wanted her to desire him as 86

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much as he did her. But if he insisted right now, she'd only regret it later. Nay, the time isn't right. He would have her, willingly. But he'd have to wait. She wasn't ready. Darian instantly released her and watched as she quickly swam away. An irritated muscle worked along his jaw as he noticed she didn't even look back. Wondering how she could turn her emotions around so quickly, he fumed in silence. He questioned why he should care whether or not she came to him on her own accord. By all rights, she was his property now, to do with as he pleased. But he'd never needed to force himself on a woman before. An' by the gods, I won't start with this one! He could be patient, if need be. But he would have her, one way or the other. I hope ya know, my wee bonnie lassie, I will win this game. Darian thoughtfully stroked his chin as he watched her scramble onto the shore and snatch her clothes. Truly this was no ordinary woman. Nay, there's more to this darkhaired, golden-skinned vixen. An' I've every intention of discoverin' it all.

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CHAPTER 7 Cheyenne perched on a fallen log by the fire and ran her fingers through her damp hair. It was still a tangled mess, but at least it was clean. With a little perseverance, she'd have it tamed in no time. She snorted with cynicism. I don't know why I'm concerned about being presentable for a bunch of uncivilized barbarians. But deep down inside, she did know. It was for one man in particular—Darian. Since he hadn't offered her anything else, she'd had no choice but to redress in her ragged shift and his dirty shirt. Under his distant but persistent watch, she'd taken a few precious moments to scrub them with the soap and rinse them in the pond before the others returned. Clean, wet clothes were preferable to smelly, dry ones. The aroma of grilled meat drifted to her nostrils, making her salivate with anticipation. She didn't know what was cooking, but it smelled wonderful. And right now, she'd probably eat just about anything. She hadn't spoken to Darian since the incident in the pond. But it was just as well. She'd no doubt die of embarrassment when she did. "Did you an' Darian have a spat?" Cheyenne paused her grooming, fingers in hair, and looked up at the man who addressed her. It was the older one with the gentle eyes and wiry beard. 88

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"He's been avoidin' ya like a plague ever since we got back from huntin'." Cheyenne shrugged. "You could say that." She hoped he never guessed the truth. The man stroked his stiff whiskers, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Ya know, I dinna care where ya came from, or why yer here. But I'm nae one fer believin' thin's happen without reason. You an' him are meant to be. I'd bet my life on it. Ain't a better mon on all of Zandar. You be happy 'e found ya, an' nae the other one." With that, he trudged away, abruptly ending his little speech. Confused, Cheyenne stared after him. Other one what? She spied Gavin a few feet away, sitting on a large rock and busily knotting a length rope. His feet were crossed at the ankles as though completely at ease and his full attention was seemingly on the project at hand. Knowing he had to have heard the conversation, she got up from her seat and approached him. "Gavin, may I talk with you a moment?" Gavin looked up, but didn't reply. His eyes were reserved, expression blank, veiling any emotion he might have felt upon seeing her. Shrugging with indifference, he silently went back to what he was doing. Cheyenne ignored his closed manner and continued without permission. "What did he mean when he said to be happy the other one didn't find me? Other one what?" ****

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Tilting his head to one side, Gavin stole a slanted glance at her. The sincerity in her questioning stare struck him with some internal sense of assurance, and it was then he knew she was telling the truth before, about being from Earth. He didn't know why, but he just knew. And the realization left him with mixed feelings of nervous concern and eager anticipation. Could the old prophecy be true? Trying to appear unmoved, he returned to weaving his rope. Several moments passed before he felt in control of the raging thoughts and sundry feelings coursing through his brain. Finally finding his voice, he tried to sound as apathetic as possible. "Ne'er mind Thor's senseless prattlin'. Silly ol' mon. Opens his mouth when 'e shouldn't." Gavin paused, debating on what else he should say. Thor was right. She was lucky. But Darian's wayward brother was only one of many concerns. There was so much to consider in light of her important existence. It was obvious she didn't have a clue as to why she was here or what her true purpose might be. An' if she is the chosen one ... What can I reveal without soundin' barmy an' scarin' the Hades out of 'er? The nauseating burden of guilt settled in his belly like a lead weight as he looked at her face and read the trusting naiveté in her innocent expression. He felt like a rogue, and he hadn't even done anything. Just knowing what he knew was enough. 90

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Gavin couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had no idea what her future entailed. Every bold assessing stare, every poised and graceful movement, bespoke of her intelligence, her curiosity, her strength. She was a natural, a free spirit. And it would no doubt be devastating when she found out her true purpose. Poor lass. She was about to be thrust into a callous but essential role in which she'd have very little say in the events surrounding the crucial fulfillment of her destiny. An' she doesn't even know. Gavin mentally shook his head. Dinna get ahead of yerself, mon. This may all be coincidental. There were so many unanswered questions yet to be asked. Realizing she'd have to know about Darian's brother sometime, he decided now was just as good a time as any. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, Gavin prepared to describe the person who, in essence, was a part of Darian, but in action, was crudely the opposite. "He's referrin' to Darian's brother, Chris. Of course, most folk know 'im as Lord Blood." Cheyenne's brows drew together in an incredulous frown. "Lord Blood?" Gavin snorted. "The mon's an animal. He rapes, pillages, murders. There's no word to define his evil." Then he fixed her with a leveling stare. "They may be of the same blood, but they are naught alike." Cheyenne crossed her arms over her chest in an air of disbelief. "I don't know why you're so protective of him. As 91

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far as I can tell, the man does little more than scowl and bark orders at everyone else." Gavin lifted his chin with pride. "Darian is fair an' honest. He's a good mon. Chris knows naught of these. Aside from Lord Ramekah, he's the devil 'imself." Then he resumed his weaving, yanking on the rope as he battled a silent demon. Her perception is folly. She knows naught of— "Ramekah is worse?" Cheyenne's concerned voice broke through his thoughts. When Gavin looked up, the sincerity in her beautiful eyes clenched at his heart. "Aye. Ramekah an' many others," he replied softly, feeling a long buried sorrow resurface. "There are men of this world who think naught of ... who feel naught." Gavin was silent a long while as painful memories plagued his soul. He stared down at the inanimate object in his hand, hoping to hide his anguish from her seemingly thorough scrutiny. Clutching the rope until his knuckles turned white, he willed the terrible images to go away. When he finally chanced to look up, he found her watching him with a disturbing intensity. It was almost as though she could sense his pain. And the idea was unsettling. Eager to change the subject lest she probe for more details, he hurriedly continued. "Thor is right. You should be thankful Darian found ya. If it'd been Chris..." A violent shudder wracked his frame. "He'd have taken his fill an' thrown ya to the rest of his immoral pack like a worthless bar whore. An' if that didn't kill ya, he'd have cut yer throat an' left ya fer dead." 92

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Gavin's eyes narrowed with disdain as he pondered Darian's heartless sibling. "Chris is a fool. He wouldn't have even known what..." He stopped himself, realizing how close he'd just come to exposing the truth. But Cheyenne didn't seem to notice his near mistake. She settled herself down on the ground by his feet and stared up at him with eyes full of interest. "What happened to make Chris so different from his brother?" Gavin looked down at her upturned face. May the gods have mercy upon my mangy head. This lass could likely pull every grain of truth from my tainted soul with just a mere bat of 'er lashes. With a sigh of defeat, he delved into his Lord's less than pleasant history. "Darian's mother died whilst birthin' 'im. Nae wantin' his newborn son to be deprived of a mother's love, his father quickly remarried." Embarrassed by the next point of his story, Gavin dropped his eyes before Cheyenne's steady gaze. "'Twas nae long before his new wife became pregnant an' gave 'im a second bairn, Chris." Feeling a bead of moisture run down his cheek, he swiped at his brow with his forearm. Then he held up the finished rope, momentarily inspecting his handiwork in silence. Satisfied, he tossed it aside. "From the moment of birth, Chris was a spawn of Hades. An' as 'e got older, 'e only got worse. Darian an' he fought all the time, over everythin'. I think their father always hoped they'd work thin's out, be bonded, as brothers should be." He emphasized his point with a clenched fist. "But after 'e died, 93

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the two could ne'er agree on how to run the Andreas Territory. Although close in age, Darian was the eldest, an' hence, next in line to become Lord. But Chris couldn't accept that." Gavin looked away. "Then there was Serena." His voice was scarcely a whisper. He paused a moment, closing his eyes as her name brought forth another onslaught of sensitive memories. A grin touched his lips. "Ahh ... she was a bonnie lass. An' Darian loved 'er more than life itself." Then his smile slowly faded and all traces of his pleasant reminiscence were gone. Beyond her beauty, there was nothing lovely about Serena. She was a cold-hearted wench. "They were to be wed on the first warm day of the new pass. It was to be a grand event, attended by many Lords an' High-Rankin' Officials from all three territories, except Ramekah, of course." Then he fell silent again, hoping they could just leave it at that. But he knew, even before the words had left her mouth, there was no denying her the finality of his story. And he was right. Cheyenne's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What happened?" Irritated by her prodding, Gavin frowned with annoyance. Then he glanced over at Darian. Although he appeared preoccupied with setting up his tent, there was no doubt he watched their every movement with hawk-like efficiency. Nothing escaped his Lord's perceptiveness. Why did I open my mouth about Serena? Darian wouldn't take kindly to them discussing his humiliating past. In the 94

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very least, he was surely in for a thorough tongue-lashing. Which, coming from Darian, was worse than a beating with a cat-o'-nine-tails. Gavin sighed. What's done is done. Besides, the determined sparkle in her lovely indigo eyes told him she had no intention of letting it go. Then another idea struck him, and he smiled once again. Maybe she was just what Darian needed. "On the eve of his weddin', Darian wanted to make amends with his brother. When 'e went to Chris's bedchamber, 'e nae only found him, but Serena as well. I dinna s'pose I need to describe the manner. Let's just say there wasn't much of an explanation to be heard, so 'e banished 'em both from the castle." Cheyenne's hand flew to her mouth. "That's terrible!" Gavin nodded, then stared down at the ground. After several long moments of silence, an unsettling feeling washed over him when he realized Cheyenne had grown suspiciously quiet. When he chanced to look up, she pierced him with a stern glare. It was as though she knew there was something else, a more shocking part to this already heart-wrenching story, a secret he didn't dare tell. "You knew all along, didn't you?" she accused, her jaw tightening with unexplained anger. Unable to meet the harsh but true incrimination in the depth of her glare, Gavin quickly looked away. "Aye, I knew." His laugh was cold with resentment. Then he sadly shook his head. "I confronted 'em. Warned 'em that I'd go to Darian if they didn't end their affair. I ... just couldn't brin' m'self to 95

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breakin' his heart. An' I foolishly thought I could prevent them from doin' it too." He looked at her then, his eyes pleading with her to understand the reasoning behind his deceit. "Darian doesn't know. No one does." Cheyenne silently stared back at him for a long moment. Then she nodded and an understanding smile lifted the corners of her full peachy lips. "What happened to Serena?" Gavin exhaled a long sigh of relief. His secret was safe. He'd have to break down and confess his knowledge eventually, but he wanted Darian to be completely over it first, if that was possible. "Chris always had a large followin' of servants. When Darian exiled 'im, 'e simply moved to Warban Hold, assassinated the reignin' High Rankin' Official, an' claimed the throne fer 'imself." Cheyenne's face contorted with shock. "He murdered—" "It's a horrible place," Gavin rushed on to explain, trying to smooth over her distress. "Inhabited by thieves, crooks, an' the worst brood of criminals. He fits in nicely. Really." Then he lowered his voice to a mere whisper and checked to make sure Darian wasn't listening. "Word is, Serena lives in Chris's castle, as his whor ... mistress." Gavin shrugged. "I guess she got what she deserved." **** Cheyenne shivered as barbaric images of this Lord Blood filled her mind with terrifying scenarios. She had to agree with Gavin and Thor. Although she wasn't real happy with 96

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Darian at the present, at least he hadn't done anything to her that she hadn't allowed. Masterful persuasion seemed to be more his style. But he still hadn't resorted to forcing himself on her when she'd refused. He could have, she realized. But he didn't. Then another thought struck her. If he had, would she have put up much of a fight? The idea gave her a start. The harder she tried to ignore the truth, the more it persisted. She'd sensed there was something special about him from the very beginning. As if instinct told her they were destined to be joined, Cheyenne knew there would come a time when she'd no longer resist. It was a startling admission that left her reeling. Trying to rein in her disturbing thoughts, she willed herself to focus on Gavin. She needed to know more about this Lord Blood, and Darian. Cheyenne watched as Gavin's dark brows drew together in an agonized frown. A somber look of sadness momentarily transformed his handsome features before an expressionless mask veiled it. She noted the stony set of his face, his tightly clamped mouth, and hard, fixed stare. Apparently, he hadn't intended to mention Serena. Heaviness settled in her chest as she thought about the pain and humiliation Darian must have endured. Glancing over at his bronzed shoulders, she couldn't help but feel her heart reach out to him. No one deserves to be hurt that way. No one.

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As if sensing her stare, he suddenly turned around. His gaze first met hers, then moved to Gavin. And his mouth curled into an unpleasant frown. Seemingly taking Darian's harsh scowl as a silent indicator, Gavin made a hasty retreat. "Anyway, that's what Thor meant. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think dinner's about ready." Before she could protest, he jumped up and strode off. Cheyenne stood and stretched. Then she walked back over to the log and sat down to think about what Gavin had told her. She certainly didn't want to meet Chris, he sounded like a dangerous man. But it troubled her that Darian and he hated each other. Family is so important. A sharp twinge of old pain stabbed her heart. She never knew her family. Not her real one, anyway. It also made her jealous to think that this Serena had captured Darian's heart. Gavin said he'd loved her more than anything else. Doesn't that woman realize what she's wasted? I've waited my whole life to find love like that. How could someone be stupid enough to just throw it away? With a forlorn sigh, she returned her attention to the fire.

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CHAPTER 8 Darian watched Cheyenne from across the camp. There was something about her that drove him crazy. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Every time he saw one of the others approach her, it made him insanely jealous. When Gavin was talking to her, he wanted to go over and yank her away from him. What's wrong with me? he demanded, disgusted by his own weakness. Didn't I vow ne'er to let another female run my thoughts? My heart? Didn't I learn my lesson? Yet, every time he looked at her, his manhood swelled and he could think of nothing but bedding her. Maybe he'd gone too long without a woman. A trip to Brigette's would do him good. He'd satisfy his hunger with Monique, and then get on to more important matters, like finding out who this girl really was and why she was here. **** Cheyenne glanced up from the flames. Seeing Darian's figure a short distance away, her gaze slowly took in his alluring form. As her assessment traveled to his face, her eyes met and locked with his. Feeling goose bumps rise on her arms, she hastily looked away, unable to meet his penetrating stare. She wondered how long he'd been watching her. Even from a distance, his desire was apparent. I won't be a substitute for Serena. 99

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"Would ya like somethin' to eat?" Cheyenne turned around to face a young man. Smiling apprehensively, he thrust a metal disc loaded down with what smelled and appeared to be something edible. He was awkward and shy, almost tripping over his own feet to get away after she took the makeshift plate from his hand. She remembered seeing him earlier, while clambering back up the hill. He was the only one thus far who seemed concerned about her welfare, first questioning her ability to make the strenuous climb, and now offering her starving body something to eat. Cheyenne snorted. Darian's only concern has been focused on getting his hands on me. She imagined once he did, his interest would quickly pass. Perhaps he'd tire of the chase and move on to other conquests when they reached their destination. She looked at the quickly retreating backside of the young man, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He'd almost acted afraid of her. You'd think some of these guys had never seen a woman before! "Thank you," she called after him. He turned and smiled at her, raising his hand in acknowledgment. But his smile quickly faded as he looked past her. Instantly dropping his arm, he returned to his business. Cheyenne whipped around and saw Darian standing only a few feet away. His arms were folded tightly across his massive chest, making the muscles bulge above his forearms. 100

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His stance was stiff and wide, and a deep scowl darkened his handsome face. Cheyenne's jaw tensed with irritation. He must have frightened the poor guy. Lord, and he looks fit to skin me alive, too! Rolling her eyes with disgust, she turned her attention back to the strange food on her plate. He can fume all he wants. I'm starving. It wasn't exactly a four-course meal, but it smelled wonderful. She picked up a thick piece of meat with her fingers and took a tentative bite. It was juicy, and surprisingly delicious. The strong flavor of the wild game filled her mouth, making her salivate even more. Attacking the food with fervor, she quickly gobbled down the rest. When her belly was full, Cheyenne sighed with content and set the plate aside. Then she turned back to the fire. The air had turned cooler, so she inched toward the dancing flames. Closing her eyes, she let the heat wash over her body, marveling at how calming it was. Ahh ... the glorious rapture of nature. It had been a long while since she'd opened herself to Mother Earth. A very long while. And although this wasn't actually Earth, Zandar was a like enough replacement. Every so often, the cry from a bird of prey echoed overhead, or some other animal noise drifted from the trees behind them. She'd almost fallen into a state of complete 101

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relaxation when the sound of music filled her ears. Opening her eyes, Cheyenne looked around for the source. One of the men was playing an instrument resembling a violin. His nimble fingers moved across the strings, producing the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. At first it was long and slow, almost melancholic. But then the tune suddenly burst into a fast-paced, catchy beat. And some of the men clapped their hands, following along in perfect rhythm. Thor jumped to his feet and began dancing around the campfire. His older frame suddenly appeared youthful as he leapt about with virile ease and surprising grace. In that instant, he looked as buoyant and spry as any of the others. Perhaps he isn't as old as I thought, she speculated, impressed by his sprightly gig. She couldn't help but get caught up in the merriment. Laughing gaily, Cheyenne joined in the clapping, cheering Thor on as he pranced around. Before she knew it, he was directly in front of her. Then he stopped, bowed, and held out his hand, offering her a dance. "M'Lady?" Cheyenne nervously glanced around before returning to his questioning gaze. His gentle eyes were soft and reassuring, as if to say she had nothing to worry about from him. "I don't know how," she stammered, feeling like a bumbling idiot. "Sure, she'd boogied a few times with her girlfriends at the local bars and slow-danced with a couple of guys at the high-school prom. Beyond that, she had no real skill. 102

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But Thor was not to be refused. Smiling warmly, he persistently waited, palm outstretched. "I'll show ya," he promised softly. Sensing nine other pairs of eyes upon her, eagerly waiting for her decision, Cheyenne finally gave up and placed her hand in his. "Just follow my lead," he commanded lightly. Cheyenne giggled. "I'll try, but your feet will probably be sorry." His hearty laugh warmed her heart as he easily swung her around in a square dance motion. Seemingly taking care to keep the movement simple, he skillfully coaxed her into the right step. Cheyenne was amazed at how quickly she caught on. Soon, she was matching his footwork without any mistakes. And before long, the others were cutting in, each taking their turn as her dance partner. She was unaware of when the songs changed or how much time had passed while she danced. She was having loads of fun and felt high on emotion. Then she was waltzing alone, her body swaying and moving to the music. Like a gypsy, her arms and hips moved with natural grace as the simple melody turned her into a seductive temptress. The music climbed into her spirit and guided her movements. She felt as one with the earth, the wind, the sky. She imagined the fire was dancing with her, its shifting flames mimicking her motions with an alluring wave. Waltzing around the blazing boundaries, she reveled in the heat on her skin, responding as one would to the arousing caress of a 103

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passionate lover. The clapping and chanting of the others seemed so far away, their voices lost to the raging sensations in her head. As Cheyenne spun round and round, her hair flew wildly about her face. It was like the dark aura of a starless night surrounding her head in silky smooth blackness. Her bare feet pounded the ground like the thudding of a drum. And her arms snaked around her face and body, hovering and molding around her curves with erotic precision. The sound of the music, the movement of her limbs, and the intensity of emotion all culminated into an ever-growing vortex of motion, working its way toward the grand finale. Then she stopped, for Darian was standing before her. Cheyenne pushed the hair out of her face to look at him. Everything around her had grown quiet. The music ceased. The clapping halted. The only sounds were the thumping of her heart and rasp of her heavy breathing. Everyone became still, watching, waiting. Desire flared in Darian's eyes, burning ferocious and stronger than it had before. But she wasn't afraid. Perhaps it was the music. Perhaps it had been the sadness she'd felt when she'd learned of his pain. Cheyenne didn't know why, but at that moment she wanted to please him. She could make him happy. Take away his sorrow. Even if for only a little while. Taking a step toward him, she held out her hand, offering more than just a dance. ****

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Darian was tempted to take it, to let her lead him in one of her enticing steps. More than anything, he wanted to feel her seductive body swaying beneath his fingertips. But he knew once he had her in his arms, he wouldn't let go until he was completely satisfied. Until he'd touched and experienced every part of her. My God, woman, dinna ya ken what yer doin' to me? His hunger was fierce, and he wanted nothing more than to crush her against him. Just watching her sweat-soaked frame glistening in the firelight as she danced around had nearly driven him senseless. And yet, here she was, seemingly offering him everything he wanted. All he had to do was reach out and take it. But his sense of responsibility won out over his barbaric instincts. Nay, it has to stop. The music, the laughter, the gaiety—all had served as a heady aphrodisiac. At that moment, she wanted him. But in the morning, it would all be gone, and then she'd regret. An' what of the others? Surely they felt somethin', too. He'd been eaten up with envy as he'd watched each of his men hold her in their arms, their hands trespassing along her curves, boldly touching and drinking in her beauty while they'd danced. Would it be fair to take 'er to my bed whilst they're left without? He certainly had no intention of sharing her with anyone. But claiming her now would be unjust. Darian mentally shook his head. Nay, only a foolish mon would be so selfish. 105

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He'd seen the lustrous glare on all of their faces. Flaunting his authority could prove deadly when faced with a group of deprived men. No, he'd have to wait, just like the rest of them. He wondered if maybe he should take more care to keep her from interacting with them in such a ... brazen manner. Although her actions were innocent enough, it was obvious she had no idea what kind of effect she'd had on them. On me. Hardening his features, he stiffly stepped past her, ignoring the pained look of rejection on her lovely face. He announced to the group that it was time to turn in. And although there was some audible grumbling, no one dared argue. They all quietly went about their business. **** Cheyenne felt embarrassed and renounced. She watched him through lowered lashes, bordering on tears. Anger smoldered in her heart, and her bottom lip trembled with mounting fury. How dare he do that to me! She'd dealt with discrimination, supercilious men, and envious women her whole life. But none of the painful taunting, disgusting gestures, or heartless insinuations had ever hurt her as much as his dismissal had. He'd wounded far more than just her pride. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. Why's he being such an ass? Is he still irritated about the incident in the stream? 106

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Perhaps he wasn't so unlike his brother after all. He might not be a murdering, pillaging monster, but he sure didn't hesitate to rip out my heart and trample my dignity. That was the last time she'd offer anything of herself to him. She couldn't believe she'd almost made the biggest mistake of her life. If he'd treated Serena the same way, it's no wonder she was unfaithful. Maybe Chris isn't as bad as the others make him out to be. After all, I haven't heard his side of the story, yet.

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CHAPTER 9 Cheyenne picked up her dirty plate and went to the stream to clean it. When she was done, she gave it to one of the others. Then she squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and smoothly walked over the where Darian was tethering his horse. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She tried to sound as monotonous as she could. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how much his rejection had hurt. Although he looked up, meeting her questioning glare with unconcerned ease, Darian didn't reply. He simply pointed to a tent a few yards away, then returned his attention to his patiently waiting steed. Cheyenne spun on her heels and marched to the designated shelter. After lifting the heavy flap barricading the entrance, she slipped inside. The interior was much bigger than she'd expected. There was even a small fire in the middle, keeping it warm. How cozy. She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She didn't want to consider Darian in any way thoughtful. At the moment, she didn't want to think anything nice about him at all. Cautiously standing, Cheyenne found there was plenty of room. Darian, on the other hand, would be entirely too tall. He'd have to lean over. Strangely, the realization gave her a small sense of pleasure. Serves him right for being such an ass! 108

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Cheyenne noticed two bedrolls, one on either side of the fire. She assumed one was for her. But what about the other? Choosing the one farthest from the door, she plopped down and waited for her roommate to appear. Within minutes, Darian slipped through the flap. I knew it! Of course, it wasn't like she'd have felt safer with one of the others instead. He glanced at her, then offered a smug grin. "I see ya found yer bed." Cheyenne's eyes narrowed with disdain. She considered launching her pillow at his head, but thought better of it. "I suppose you're sleeping over there?" she snapped, pointing to the other bedroll. "Unless ya prefer I sleep with you," he taunted. The smile in his eyes contained a sensuous flame, and she knew his statement was more than a jibe. Trying to ignore his enticing proposal, Cheyenne snorted with feigned contempt. "I'd prefer you sleep outside. But since I'm sure that won't happen, I hope you can stay on your side of the tent better than you did the pond." Darian didn't reply, but she could see the boyish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Cheyenne pulled the covers back and climbed into her bedroll. Then she turned on her side, away from him. Hearing him moving about behind her, she tried her best to ignore the sounds and go to sleep, but she couldn't relax. She kept imagining what might happen if she took him up on his offer and suggest he sleep with her. 109

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The tent grew dim as Darian stirred down the embers. Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if he'd ravish her now or leave her be. He moved about some more, then fell still. She wasn't sure why, but she was slightly disappointed that he didn't even try to touch her. Perhaps he'd already decided she wasn't worth his time. He was probably thinking of his favorite whore in Havenwort. And why not? What could she possibly offer him that would compare to the type of pleasure he was no doubt used to experiencing? A terribly incompetent romp? No, we're both better off this way. She wouldn't be humiliated by her lack of knowledge, and he wouldn't be displeased by her inept ability. Cheyenne didn't know how long she lay there, struggling with mixed emotions and unable to go sleep. Darian's breathing had long ago fallen into an even tone and she knew he'd drifted into oblivion. How can he doze off so easily? Her blanket was scratchy, the ground was hard, and there was something pressing into her hip. Finally, after a lot of tossing and turning, she found a comfortable position and fell into a fitful slumber. A nightmare began almost as soon as she'd dozed off. Cheyenne ran through a never-ending maze of trees and brush. There were heavy footsteps behind her, steadily closing the distance between them. She blindly kept going, not knowing where she was or from what she fled. 110

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She could feel its breath on her neck. The hot moisture made her tremble with fear. Sheer, black fright gripped her insides and the need to escape became overwhelming. When she pushed herself to run faster, her body rebelled, slowing her steps. An invisible hand reached for her hair, tangling in the long tresses with alarming power. Then the icy grasp locked itself upon her skin. She felt its fingers wrapping around her arms with firm possessiveness. Wrenching free of the steely grasp, Cheyenne forced herself to run faster. Panic began closing off her throat and she panted in terror. Her chest felt as if it would bust as she gulped in quick, shallow gasps. The ear-piercing howl of an animal reverberated through the darkness. She knew that time was running out, the thing was closing in upon her. Soon it would overcome her, capture her, devour her with its elongated fangs. The fear was crushing, and she began to scream as she succumbed to the indiscernible force... Cheyenne didn't realize she'd been screaming until someone shaking her awake ripped her from the nightmare's clutches. Straining to reach toward the familiar sound, she pulled herself out of the tormented vision. Her eyes blinked repeatedly as she struggled to recognize the person before her. "Cheyenne, it's okay. Yer havin' a bad dream. Yer all right. Yer safe." She heard Darian's voice and felt the warmth of his body close to hers. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around 111

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his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and burst into tears. His strong arms held her tightly, patiently allowing her to vent her distress. Ever so slowly, the trembling eased and she loosened her grip. Cheyenne rolled over and sat up. With her back toward Darian, she proceeded to wipe the moisture from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "M'Lord?" A tentative voice called from outside the tent. "Come," Darian returned. The flap peeled back and Gavin poked his head through the opening. "Is everythin' all right? I heard the screamin' an'—" "I'm sorry." Cheyenne sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "I just had—" A long, drawn out howl cut through the air with a tone of warning. It was close, seemingly just outside the tent. The ominous cry was foreboding, frightening her into near panic once again. Cheyenne shrieked and jumped into Darian's lap. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, thudding against her ribs with erratic rhythm. Tightening her arms around his neck, she buried her face in the hollow of his throat. "W ... w ... what is that?" she asked though chattering teeth. "It's just a woove. It willna come near the camp," Gavin reassured. "We always leave a big fire burnin' to ward off animals." Ever so slowly, she lifted her head and glanced toward Gavin, expecting at any moment for some hideous creature to 112

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knock him down and burst inside. "I heard it in my dream," she squeaked. **** Darian carefully loosened Cheyenne's grip on his neck. He could hear the other men gathering outside the tent, their concerned mumbles floated though the fabric walls. Did they all hear 'er screams? "Tell the others everythin's fine," Darian gruffly commanded. "She's all right." Gavin nodded his head and ducked back out the tent. His deep voice echoed through air as he relayed the message, just as instructed. Soon, all was quiet; with infrequent howls in the distance the only sounds piercing the silence. Cheyenne began to cry again. "It scared me so much," she sobbed. "I just want to go home!" Gathering her into his arms, Darian gently rocked her back and forth as he would a small child. Trying to quell the nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach, he stroked her back and whispered words of encouragement. "Its okay. I promise I willna let anythin' hurt ya, all right? Cheyenne?" When she didn't respond, he gently took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "I promise. Do ya believe me?" Cheyenne nodded. "Can I stay here? Just for a little while? I don't think I can go back to sleep yet." "Sure," Darian choked out, struggling to keep his desire at bay as she stared up at him through large round eyes that sparkled like shimmering amethysts. 113

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"You feel so warm. So safe." Her voice was a faint whisper against his chest as she snuggled closer, obviously failing to recognize the stiffening of his body as he tensed at their intimate contact. Darian awkwardly held her against him, willing himself to remain unaffected by the clean smell of her hair and the softness of her skin. She felt so perfect. Her tiny body fit against his like ... like it's meant to be here. Startled by the dawning reality, he immediately chided himself for such nonsense. He'd never let anyone hurt him the way Serena had. Yet, the mounting evidence was shockingly clear—he was fast becoming powerless against this creature before him. Once he tasted her sweetness, would his craving be satisfied? Would his desire fade as it did with all the others? Was this only infatuation? Aye, that must be it. She was new to him. Unconquered territory. Untouched. When they reached Havenwort, he'd satisfy his needs and be done with it. Then he'd get on with more important matters. There were so many questions, so much uncertainty. She claimed to be from Earth. But he had to know for sure. Could the old prophecy be true? When her breathing had fallen into the steady rhythm of deep sleep, Darian carefully laid her down. He covered her with a blanket and returned to his own bed. Part of him wanted to lie down beside her, hold her through the night. But he wasn't sure he could behave. 114

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He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Her scent still clung to his skin. She had permeated every pore of his being. Realizing he could never be satisfied with only her body, he knew he wanted it all—her mind, her spirit, and most importantly, her heart. But he wondered, who had captured whom? Although she was his prisoner, it was beginning to seem as though he was the one ensnared. As he quietly studied her tiny form, he became aware of how vulnerable she was. She must be feelin' so overwhelmed. An' I've certainly been less than a gentleman. Darian wanted to kick himself for being such an ass earlier. He couldn't help his attraction. He knew she wanted to him too, but he had to try and control himself. When she gave herself to him, he wanted it to be out of love, not lust. If there was one thing he'd learned from his experience with Serena, it was that it took time to acquire a woman's heart. He'd made so many mistakes with her. Their relationship had been wonderful in the bedchamber, but beyond that ... his soul had been lonely. Serena would never have loved him, not like he wanted. She didn't have it in her. He realized that now. But maybe Cheyenne was different. It was as if his entire body came alive when he touched her skin. She'd awakened feelings and emotions he'd thought were dead. I'll make 'er love me, he vowed. She will be mine. It was going to take all the strength and patience he could muster, but somehow he'd do it. 115

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CHAPTER 10 Cheyenne was awakened early the next morning by the sounds of whooping and hollering. Darian was already gone, so she crept over to the door and peeked out the flap. The men were bathing in the shallows of the pond, oblivious to her intruding stare and shocked gaze. He wasn't among them. She quickly scanned the camp, spotting him by the horses. Then she retreated back inside lest he see her and know she'd been watching the others. Cheyenne nervously paced back and forth across the limited interior, pondering what she'd just seen. Although many of the men were young and attractive, none had even come close in form to Darian. He was absolutely perfect. She closed her eyes, remembering how he'd looked by the edge of the water the day before, his chest wide and powerful, a light sprinkling of golden brown hair covering its expanse. His arms rock-hard and bulging with muscles. His legs long and lean, also dusted with bronzed, curly wisps. Heat crept up her throat and across her cheeks when she thought about the hair on his abdomen. She was fascinated by the way it traveled downward, growing darker as it met the hair around his manhood. Her heart beat a little faster as she remembered how his shaft had stood out from his body, proud and erect. The size had frightened and thrilled her at the same time. Warmth spread along her limbs and tiny butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. Tremors of excitement 116

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slowly worked their way downward, stimulating each nerve along the way until they nearly vibrated with exhilaration. The sensation centered in her pelvis, creating a dull throb between her legs. Every inch of her skin felt alive and fiery, tingling with curious anticipation. Shocked by her body's reaction to the shameful picture she'd conjured in her head, she gasped and opened her eyes. To her dismay, Darian was standing in the doorway, watching her with a knowing grin. Cheyenne groaned as she felt her cheeks flame with mortification. Oh, Lord. She quickly dropped her gaze to the ground. Did he suspect her thoughts? Had her eyes betrayed her secret desires? "I didn't know ya meditated," he taunted, stepping into the tent and letting the door slap shut behind him, sealing them off from the world outside. "Yes, well, only when I need to clear my thinking," she replied hastily. One of his thick brows rose in question. "Is that what ya were doin', clearin' yer mind?" Then he thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Hmm ... From the look on yer face, I'm wonderin' what ya were clearin' it of." Cheyenne's cheeks burned even hotter. She dared not look at him. Choosing to ignore his annoying smirk, she busied herself with picking up her bed. Darian watched as she fumbled with her bedroll. When she finally folded it into a sloppy bundle, he scowled at the messy blob and rolled his eyes with hopelessness. Then he snatched 117

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it from her bungling fingers. "God's teeth, woman! Have ya ne'er packed a throw? Here, let me show ya." He demonstrated how to roll and tie it properly. "See, now it can hang on the saddle." He smiled, offering her a dazzling display of brilliant white teeth. Cheyenne's knees weakened and she nearly swooned with open admiration as he showered her with his charming grin. She'd been mute and still as he'd secured her bedding, not really watching what he was doing, but rather studying him. His movements were enchanting, and she'd memorized each rippling muscle with awe. Unaware she was holding her breath, it suddenly rushed out in one long, musical sigh. Her cheeks glowed with searing humiliation once again as she realized how foolish she must look—standing there and staring at him like some lovestricken teenager. She lowered her lashes and looked away, attempting to veil her obvious fascination. Cheyenne was so ashamed. It was like she had no control over her attraction to him. Am I under some sort of spell? Given her current situation, anything was possible. "The others should be done by now. Why dinna ya go doon to the creek an' freshen up," Darian offered. "We'll be leavin' shortly." Then he handed her a palm-sized, neon-green leaf that smelled strangely of mint. "What's this for?" Cheyenne turned the leaf over to study its veiny backside. Toilet paper? "Mornin' breath." He smiled, proudly displaying his sparkling choppers. 118

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"Oh." At least he practices good hygiene. Wondering why that revelation pleased her, she started toward the tent flap. "Uh, just use a wee bit though, it's fairly potent," he warned. "An' be sure to rinse well. It's also poison." "Lovely," she replied, then quickly took her leave before he could stop her. Now he's trying to kill me! She giggled at the prospect. Surely not. As Cheyenne neared the stream, she was glad to see there was no one about. The others were busy packing the gear and loading their horses. She was thankful for some time alone. Kneeling by the water's edge, she looked at her reflection. Once again, her hair was in disarray—only this time from a restless night's sleep—and her arms and legs were covered with tiny, healing scratches. At least she was clean, and there was a warm glow to her cheeks that made her look almost ... pretty. Cheyenne snorted and thrust her hands into the surface, blurring the image. She splashed the cool water onto her face, letting it run down her neck and shoulders. It felt fresh, invigorating. Then she picked up the leaf and tore off a tiny piece. Clear gel oozed from the broken veins. She pondered her rationality, then shrugged and popped the green sliver into her mouth. Almost instantly, her taste buds were assailed by a mint flavor that was so fresh, it felt icy cold. She quickly chewed the leaf into a green pulp, and then used her fingertip to rub 119

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it over all surfaces of her teeth. When her tongue began to burn, she spit the glob out onto the ground beside her. "Whoa! That stuff's intense!" Scooping up a handful of creek water, Cheyenne paused only briefly before sucking it into her mouth. God, I hope this stuff is fairly sanitary. She sloshed it around a bit before spitting it out. Then she repeated the process several times until she was sure she'd removed all remnants of the goop from her mouth. I'd hate to leave green stuff between my teeth. Glancing at her reflection again as the water settled, she decided that since she had nothing to secure her hair, the only way to tame her wild mane was to wet it. So she leaned over and dunked her head into the water, using her hands to wet it to the scalp. After a moment, she flung her head up, making an arch of water with her long tresses. Hearing a disgruntled yelp from behind as it splashed down her back, she turned to see Darian standing a few feet away, water dripping down his face and chest. Cheyenne giggled as she smoothed down her hair. "That's what you get for sneaking up on me." "I s'pose yer right. Next time I'll approach from the side." He wiped his face with the cloth he held and then handed it to her. "I thought ya might need this." **** Darian's breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. The early morning sun cast its rays on her face, making her 120

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eyes glow ever so brilliantly with mesmerizing colors of purple and blue. Her wet hair made her look pure and innocent. And his shirt, now wet and heavy, clung to her body, outlining her full breasts. Cheyenne snatched the towel from his outstretched hand, oblivious to her affect on him. Then she turned her back and proceeded to dry her hair. "Why dinna ya sit here a while, enjoy the sunlight. I'll come get ya when we're ready to leave," he suggested hoarsely. "Sure." Darian ran a shaky hand through his thick hair. "Auch! What have I come across here?" Shaking his head with bewilderment, he started toward the tent.

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CHAPTER 11 The ride to Havenwort seemed endless. They'd crossed countless miles of open grassland before seeing the glare of rooftops in the distance. Although Cheyenne didn't relish the idea of going to a whorehouse, the relief she felt when the town came into sight and she knew they'd be stopping for good was certainly welcomed. Her bottom would never be the same. She was grateful Darian had remained polite and courteous the entire time. Not once had he attempted to touch her or raise her ire. Sadly, she wondered if it was because they would soon be in town and he could relieve his frustration with one of the whores at the tavern. The thought made her depressed, and for some strange reason, a little jealous. The sky was darkening and the air had turned cool. Cheyenne shivered. She hoped for a real bed, wanting nothing more than to fall into a peaceful sleep and forget about everything, just for a while anyway. As they rode into the small town, Cheyenne thought it seemed unusually quiet. Where are the people? "Is this place vacant?" Darian laughed. "Most folks are havin' dinner right now. Dinna fret, it'll liven up soon enough." Dinner. Cheyenne's stomach grumbled in agreement. She was starving. 122

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They stopped in front of a large house with dull gray, wood siding and a tin roof composed of saucer-sized metal plates, overlapped to form shingles. The windows were draped with bright red curtains and the door was painted the same screaming hue. How fitting. Apparently, some things don't change, not matter what planet you're on. Even though she wasn't happy about being there—and sure to be appalled by what she'd witness inside—Cheyenne couldn't help but like the elderly lady who burst out the front door to greet them. She was short and round, with large buoyant breasts and a plump, friendly face. Cheyenne smiled as the woman hiked her flowing skirt and rushed down the steps. "Darian! I'd no idea you were comin'." She squeezed him in a bear hug before turning her attention to Cheyenne. Her jovial eyes lit up with delight. "An' who's this lovely creature?" Cheyenne smiled in return. "Cheyenne. I'm pleased to—" "Auck! Where's my manners? Ya must be exhausted. 'Tis no doubt 'e rode straight through without givin' ya a moment's rest. Let's get ya inside. Come now, Brigette'll take care of ya." Brigette wrapped one of her beefy arms around Cheyenne's waist and ushered her up the front steps. Unsure of the woman's intent, Cheyenne glanced over her shoulder at Darian. But he merely grinned from ear to ear and waved her on. As if suddenly noticing Cheyenne's odd apparel, Brigette stopped and looked at her from head to foot. "Oh my, what 123

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manner of dress is this?" She clucked her tongue with disapproval as she fingered the short hem of Darian's shirt. "I didn't have ... there wasn't..." What could she say without sounding like a lunatic? Well, I just dropped out of the sky, you see. And I didn't have on any clothes so— "Ne'er mind, ne'er mind. We'll get ya cleaned up an' properly dressed. You'll have to tell me all about yerself an' Darian later. Crystal! Get this lass some food an' a hot bath ready in room four this instant!" Cheyenne felt like she was back in the currents of the vortex. Brigette was certainly a high-strung person. She'd barely taken a breath between sentences. And she couldn't help but wonder how one with so much energy could be so plump. Intrigued by this cheerful woman and her eccentric personality, Cheyenne eagerly took in her surroundings as they rushed inside the tavern. The room they entered was enormous. Its floor was made out of solid wood planks, skillfully dovetailed and stained a dark brownish red. Scuffs and deep scratches marred the aged finish, no doubt caused by the many tables and chairs that had been scraped and thrown across its expanse during countless brawls. Several paintings lined the walls, all of which contained scantily clad women in every brazen pose imaginable. Cheyenne couldn't help but wonder if they were portraits of the girls who worked there, or perhaps did so in the past. Had any of them entertained Darian? The unpleasant notion settled in her thoughts as she focused on a picture of a beautiful woman with fiery red hair 124

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and ample breasts. A pang of jealousy knotted her belly as she briefly imagined the woman's smooth, ivory arms wound around Darian's neck and her ruby lips pressed against his. Mentally brushing the nauseating image away, she turned her attention back to the décor. There were a dozen or so large tables spaced around the room, each with an accompaniment of four to six sturdy captain's chairs. A long bar lined with tall wooden stools hugged the back wall. And a doorway leading off somewhere else was strategically tucked in the right corner, easily accessible, but not openly apparent. A steep stairwell curled up the far left-hand wall and met with a brown painted balcony that traveled the entire length of the room. Cheyenne pondered its safety. It didn't look very sturdy. The wood was cracked and splintered, making it appear frail. Some of the railing bars were broken. Others were missing all together. And large curls of paint peeled away in numerous places, revealing the tired gray grain beneath. Behind the banister were several doors, each adorned with large gold numbers that proceeded in sequence from one through ten. With the exception of a door at the very end, every one was colored the same brazen red that marked the entrance. It was as if they were blaring, "Here's where the whores are, boys! Come an' get 'em!" But that's what this is, isn't it? A whorehouse. The last door was different, set apart from the others. It was painted a drab green and un-numbered. Cheyenne 125

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wondered whose room it was. Was it a special room? Did only certain customers get to go in there? Did Darian? But she barely had time to conjure up any brash ideas because Brigette was urging her up the stairwell. As they stepped from the stairs onto the old wooden balcony, it let out a low, rebellious groan. Cheyenne dug in her heels, halting their progress. Clinging to the railing like ivy, she rooted herself in place and refused to budge. Cautiously, she peered over the edge at the tables below. They seemed a long way down. "You sure this thing is safe?" she asked, raising her brows in question. Seemingly amused by Cheyenne's skepticism, Brigette let out a peal of musical laughter. "My dear, this ol' thin's put up with a might more weight than you can offer. Why, yer no bigger than a street waif. Come now, it'll hold. I promise." Then she gently pried Cheyenne's fingers from the banister and nudged her forward. Cheyenne couldn't help but smile at Brigette's mirth. She supposed she was being rather silly. Her fear of heights could be overwhelming at times. Trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach that seemed to flutter wildly as every step brought forth another protest from the rickety balcony, she allowed the jolly woman to lead her on. Praying the groaning wood wouldn't give beneath her heels, Cheyenne took long, deep breaths to calm her unease. Rather than concentrate on the paralyzing distance below, she focused her attention on the doors, reading each number 126

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to herself as they slowly passed by. She wondered if they were going to the one at the end. "Here we are," Brigette exclaimed, stopping at room four. She opened the door and ushered Cheyenne through first. As she entered the chamber, Cheyenne took in the lavish decor. The whole room was garbed in royal blue. The drapes, carpet, even the plush bed in the middle were covered in layers of the rich hue. "This room is very ... nice. Are they all so ... fancy?" Brigette laughed again. It reminded Cheyenne of a twittering bird. "Auck! Heaven's nay. This is Darian's room. The others are comfortable, but nae so, how shall we say, luxuriant." "He has his own room?" Cheyenne choked. "I guess he must come here a lot." She didn't like the disappointment in her own voice, and hoped Brigette hadn't noticed. After all, why should she care what Darian did, or who he did it with? "Aye, 'e comes more since 'e dumped that hussy 'e almost married. I knew from the beginnin' she weren't no good. I didn't like 'er. Nae a wee bit. But I wouldn't exactly call it his room. Its use is reserved fer the more ... elite patrons, Lords an' High-Rankin' Officials." Cheyenne was silent. At least it's not "his" room, she mused. But for some reason, the clarification didn't make her feel any better. Since she really didn't want to hear any more details about his past affairs, she quietly nodded her head. Just then, a tall, lanky girl came into the room carrying a plate laden with fruit and meat. She handed it to Cheyenne 127

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and then left again. After a few moments, she returned, dragging a large, metal tub behind her. Cheyenne guessed her to be about seventeen years old. She had long, stringy brown hair and dull gray eyes. Her manner was somewhat standoffish because she didn't smile or seem particularly pleased when she came back into the room. She merely glared at Cheyenne a moment, then continued with her business. As though noticing Crystal's cold demeanor, Brigette scowled at her with disapproval. Then she turned to Cheyenne. "You'll have to excuse her, dear. Crystal doesn't like to do any work that's nae on 'er back. She thinks she's better than the rest of the lasses because she's one of the favorites. The men seem to like 'er. Though, I dinna understand why. She's naught but a shapeless waif, if I do say so m'self." Cheyenne was shocked by Brigette's vulgar description of Crystal's character. Although the girl was quite rude, she'd rather not make an enemy out of her. Right now, she needed all the friends she could get. Embarrassed, Cheyenne quickly dropped her gaze when the Crystal pinned her with a harsh stare. As soon as Crystal left to get water, Cheyenne leaned close to Brigette. "Probably her age," she whispered. "Some men like young girls." Cheyenne felt sorry for Crystal. She shouldn't have to live like this. She should be in school, dating young men, enjoying her youth. Of course, nothing was as it should be here. Perhaps girls didn't go to school. Perhaps no one did. 128

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"Brigette?" Brigette—who was in the process of sprinkling powder into the tub, which lit the room with the delicate aroma of jasmine and wildflowers—paused what she was doing to look at her. Cheyenne took a deep breath. "I can't be one of these girls," she declared, then exhaled with a long, raspy gush. "I won't..." Her voice broke as tears stung her lashes. At first, Brigette seemed amused by Cheyenne's bold statement. But when she noticed her apparent distress, she rushed over to comfort her. "My dear, what ever made ya think ya were?" Cheyenne's voice quivered as fear welled in her throat. "I thought Darian had brought me here t—" "To sell ya?" Brigette's mouth curled into a reassuring smile. "Honey, there ain't a lass here that doesn't want to be. An' I certainly have no use fer slave labor. It just ain't right." She patted Cheyenne's hand reassuringly. "I dinna ken what's between you two, but from the look on Darian's face, I dare say 'e wouldn't take too kindly to any other mon touchin' ya." She offered Cheyenne a beautifully embroidered handkerchief from her pocket. "Now then, dry up those tears. It'll all be all right. You'll see." Cheyenne mutely nodded and dabbed her eyes with the cloth. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Crystal lugged bucket after bucket of steaming water to the tub. When it was full—rather than leave, as Cheyenne would have expected—the girl stood in the corner and waited. "Come, lassie, into the tub with ya," Brigette encouraged. 129

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She approached Cheyenne and gently but firmly grabbed hold of her arms and stood her up. Before she could protest, Brigette had grasped the bottom of her shirt and chemise and pulled them up over her head. "Oh!" Cheyenne covered her breasts with her hands. Brigette chuckled. "No need fer modesty, dear. We're all girls here. Come with ya now, into the tub." Then she gently nudged Cheyenne toward the steaming water. Cheyenne glanced at Crystal, who was still glued to the corner. The young girl's face was contorted with disgust. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and envy hardened her eyes until they looked like two steely orbs. Cheyenne snorted. Surely she doesn't see me as a threat. There was no need for Crystal's apparent jealousy. Cheyenne certainly had no intention of taking any of her business tonight. As far as she was concerned, she could have all of the men, Darian included. Mentally shrugging off Crystal's odd expression, Cheyenne stepped into the tub. She turned her back to the sour-faced girl and slipped down into the welcoming heat. Although it unnerved her to be completely naked in front of two strangers, the water felt wonderful, much more invigorating than the cold, murky stream she'd bathed in before. "Crystal!" Brigette hissed, just before the door slammed shut. Cheyenne nearly jumped back out of the tub. "What is it? What's wrong?' Brigette glared at the closed door, ignoring her question. "That lass is up to no good. I'd bet my life on it." She handed 130

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a bar of soap to Cheyenne. "I'll be back." Then she hurriedly left. Cheyenne wondered about their strange behavior, but she was glad to finally be alone. She liked Brigette, but she didn't need help taking a bath. Nor did she require any spectators. She lathered her hair with the pleasant smelling soap and then immersed herself completely under the surface. Ahhhh... Cheyenne stayed submerged as long as she could, slowly running her fingers through her hair to remove the bubbles. This is much better than that slimy pond. And, a lot more private. She'd just come up for air when she heard the door burst open. It sounded as though it was nearly torn from its hinges. So much for privacy! Cheyenne swiped the water from her eyes with her palms and turned to see who'd come in. She let out a shocked yelp when she saw Darian's massive form hulking in the doorway. With long, purposeful strides, he advanced toward her, Brigette hot on his heels. "Darian, please. Yer scarin' 'er!" Brigette pleaded with him to stop, but he wasn't listening. Darian's searching gaze was intent on her, his mind obviously set on one course of action. He stormed to the tub, grabbed her by one arm, and yanked her to her feet. Then he spun her away from him. Cheyenne was so shocked she didn't protest. She just stood there, shaking like a leaf in a raging windstorm. Seeing how frightened she was, Brigette quickly grabbed a towel and covered the front of her. 131

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"What's this?" Darian barked. Cheyenne felt his finger press against her lower spine. "W ... w ... what?" she stammered, her teeth chattering with fear. "This mark on yer backside, where'd it come from?" He poked the curve of her back with a stiff finger. Cheyenne had no idea what he was talking about. She thought for a moment, racking her brain for an explanation to his ludicrous outburst. And then it dawned on her. My tattoo. He was referring to the ridiculous symbol she'd put on her backside during one of her rebellious phases of life. "It's a tattoo," she stammered, wondering why he was so upset about the silly design. Gripping the towel with both hands and holding it to her chest to cover her breasts, she turned to face him. "I got it a long time ago. I drew it myself." Darian stared at her a long moment, stroking his chin as though in thought. "I must have missed it in the pond," he mumbled into his palm. The words were garbled. Cheyenne wasn't quite sure she'd heard him right. "What? I didn't—" His eyes snapped back to hers. "What do ya mean ya drew it?" Her jaw clenched with anger. "I drew it," she ground out. "You know, paper, pencil? I had the idea in my head, so I drew it. Then I went to a tattoo parlor and had the guy put it there." What part of that doesn't he understand? 132

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Darian's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are ya sayin' ya ne'er saw that symbol before?" Cheyenne was taken aback. Why is this so important? "No. I mean, yes. I mean ... Ah hell, I don't know what I mean," she answered with exasperation. "I don't remember seeing it, okay. Maybe I did in a dream or something. I don't know. Look, it's not a big deal. People get tattoos all the time." He glared at her as though she were daft. Then he shook his head. A frustrated muscle worked along the strong line of his jaw and his mouth tightened a fraction, pursing his already firm lips into a taut, thin line. **** Darian spun her back around and stared at the design again, willing his mind to bring forth some long forgotten piece of information. It looked so familiar. He was almost certain he'd seen it before. But whence? "Ya drew this yerself?" he ventured again, this time in a dream-like trance. Suddenly, the veil of confusion lifted like a wispy cloud and his memory was crystal clear. Is it nae the symbol on the front of the old prophecy book? She'd already claimed to be from Earth. He knew there was something in the prophecy about a marking. Could this be it? Could she really be the chosen one? If the old prophecies are true, then this lass is important. How could I have been so careless? 133

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But surely this was all just coincidence. He'd never believed ... Until he got back to Andreas Castle and talked to the seer, no one should know of this tattoo as she so called it. "Yes!" Cheyenne yanked free of his grasp, disturbing his moment of clarity. "I drew it myself. Are you satisfied? Would you get out now?" **** Cheyenne was furious. He had no right to bust in there, scare the life out of her, and stare at her exposed backside! She whipped around, ready to chew-ass, but it was not to be. His stunned expression robbed the anger from her voice so that it merely came out as a tiny squeak. "You..." The color had drained from Darian's tanned face, leaving him pale. And he merely stared at her as though dumbfounded. Then he shook his head, seemingly clearing his thoughts, and grabbed both of her shoulders with biting fingers. "Who else has seen this?" Cheyenne was shocked by his brutal behavior. "I ... just you, Brigette ... and—" "An' Crystal," Brigette finished. "Ya find that lass!" Darian pointed a firm finger in Brigette's direction. "Tell 'er to keep 'er mouth shut an' tell no one. If she does, I swear I'll beat the life out of 'er!"

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Backing away, Brigette solemnly nodded her head. Then she slipped out the door, quietly closing it behind her and leaving Cheyenne alone with Darian. Cheyenne was shivering again. Not only from fear, but also because the water had turned icy cold. She clenched her jaws, trying to silence the noisy rattle of her teeth. Darian's eyes softened as he stared down at her. He obviously heard the chattering and realized he was being an ass again because he cursed under his breath and mumbled something about losing his senses every time he got near her. Cheyenne merely stared back in silence, nervously waiting to see what he was going to do to her next. A spark of desire had returned to his green eyes as they traveled the length of her shuddering frame, and she wasn't sure if that made her excited or scared as hell. At that moment, she was helpless to whatever he intended. Darian loosened his grip on her shoulders. "Cheyenne, please," he started gently, "I can't tell ya why right now, but it's very important no one else know of this. Okay?" Seeing the concern in his eyes, Cheyenne decided not to argue and nodded her head. "I'd like ... to get ... dressed now. If that's ... all right," she muttered through chattering teeth. "I'm f ... f ... freezing." Darian instantly released her and stepped away, giving her room to get out of the tub. She hastily wrapped the towel around her and then waited for him to leave. He didn't. He just stood there, looking at her as though she might disappear. 135

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Cheyenne nervously glanced about the room for some clothes, but there were none. "Brigette must have forgotten to find me something to wear," she stammered, looking down at her bare feet. Her pink nail polish was starting to chip, and a strange notion startled her thoughts. Will I ever get to paint them again? "God's teeth, woman, dinna ya ken what yer doin' to me?" His voice sounded strained, as though he suffered some silent agony. Then he quickly closed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms, crushing her against his powerful chest. His mouth came down over hers, not softly or gently, but hungry and fierce. When Cheyenne tried to pull away, his hand snaked in her wet hair and held her still. Ever so slowly, she stopped struggling. That strange jittery feeling returned. Her belly danced with butterflies and her knees trembled with weakness. Her hands slipped up his chest and her arms crept around his neck. Forgetting about the skimpy towel between them, she let it fall, unheeded, to the floor. And before she knew it, she was kissing him just as fervently. **** Darian could stand it no longer. The image of her naked body burned in his head. It taunted him, beckoned him, drawing him like the eerie call of a tempting siren. Prophecy be damned! His head began to whirl, dangerously careening on the ledge of a bottomless gorge. Yer lettin' yerself fall! his mind 136

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warned. But it was too late. He knew he'd already begun that downward spiral, quickly plummeting to irreparable heartache. His hands were everywhere, eagerly tracing and memorizing every curve of her luscious flesh. He touched her, tasted her, inhaled her. His whole body seemed to be filled with wanting and he'd never felt so alive in his life. Everything around him was her. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. Running his hands down her backside, he molded them under her buttocks and lifted her up into his arms. Then he carried her to the bed and gently laid her down on the cushy, blue comforter. Pausing only to remove his dusty boots, he quickly joined her.

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CHAPTER 12 Cheyenne felt only a moment's fear when Darian lay between her thighs, putting his full weight upon her. It didn't matter anymore that she hardly knew him. She wasn't concerned with what was to become of her. She only knew that she wanted him. Needed him. Her whole being cried out for the fulfillment only he could give. Letting her body guide her actions, she grasped his shirt and pulled it free of his pants. Then she slid her hands under the material to feel his bare skin, marveling at how the mere touch of him was fire beneath her probing fingers. As though exploring undiscovered territory, her curious digits drank in every inch of his muscled torso with insatiable thirst. She paused only briefly to tangle in the curly wisps dusting his massive chest before eagerly resuming her investigation. When her inquisitive caress trailed down his firm abdomen toward the waistband of his buckskin pants, she felt him inhale, as if her very touch caused him pain. Cheyenne responded with a matched passion of her own. She wanted more than just his kiss, his hands upon her skin, his mouth upon her breasts. She wanted him inside of her. With encouraging pouts, she thrust her hips against his and squirmed beneath him. **** Darian propped himself up on one elbow and pulled his shirt off. Her soft skin felt warm and smooth against his. And 138

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her hardened nipples pressing against his bare chest made his pulse race with anticipation. Gently taking her face in both hands, he kissed her with all the desire that had been building since the moment he'd seen her. But when her impatient whimpers reached his ears, Darian's senses returned, hurtling him back to their harsh reality. I can't do this. Nae yet. Nae 'til I know if she's the chosen one. An' if she is, she has to know the truth first. If he didn't stop now, there'd be no turning back for either of them. "Cheyenne, we must wait. God knows I want naught than to plunge m'self inside yer softness. Yer drivin' me..." Struggling with indecisiveness, he paused and looked away. Her lips are soft an' temptin', her subtle body, warm an' yieldin', his mind taunted. She's yers to do with as ya please. Why do ya wrestle with uncertainty? Darian ran a shaky hand through his hair, then cursed softly. "Namit." 'Tis responsibility that stays my need. Knowing he had to be strong, he turned his gaze back to hers. "I'm sorry, Cheyenne. We can't do this. Nae yet." She looked at him through a confused daze. As she registered his rejection, a wounded expression crossed her face. Then her eyes clouded with pain and he knew she was hurt. **** Cheyenne shoved at Darian's chest. "Just leave," she whispered hoarsely, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. 139

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He didn't resist as she pushed him away. Quickly grabbing the bedspread, Cheyenne covered herself. "I don't know what came over me," she mumbled awkwardly. "I'm sorry." Before she could come up with an acceptable excuse, there was a sharp rap on the door. Grateful for the distraction, she racked her brain for an explanation to her shameless behavior. Perhaps she could gather her wits enough to keep from sounding like a blubbering idiot! But when she heard the whiney voice on the other side, her humiliation turned to outrage. "Darian, love? Are ya in there? I've been waitin' fer ya." The words were a silken purr laced with unspoken promises. It made Cheyenne's skin crawl as though infested with millions of teensy vermin. Her hands gripped the edge of the comforter until her knuckles turned white. After a long moment, she heard the impatient tapping of toes on the other side of the threshold. "Darian Andreas, if ya dinna come out this minute, you'll have to find someone else's bed to share tonight!" Cheyenne's fury nearly burst as she glared at Darian through anger-filled eyes. Although he looked a little annoyed by the interruption, he didn't seem too distressed over the woman's intrusion. When he merely stared back at her, as though waiting for a response, it was all she could do to keep from swinging a doubled-up fist at his wonderfully chiseled jaw. "You better hurry," Cheyenne suggested with a strong note of reproach. "I'd hate for you to sleep alone." With that, she turned her back, quietly gritting her teeth. 140

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**** Darian stared at Cheyenne's stiff backside. She was obviously livid and understandably so. He knew he was to blame. But dammit, didn't she understand he was trying to do the right thing? Did she think he didn't want her? Because he did. His whole being wanted her. Namit! Why did Monique have to pick now to make an appearance? He wished she'd just go away, but her persistent foot tapping told him she intended to stay until he complied. With a reluctant sigh, he slipped on his shirt and started for the door. Darian glanced back at the bed, hoping Cheyenne would give him some excuse to stay. But she didn't even acknowledge his exit. He could tell by the rigidness of her spine that she struggled to maintain her composure. Perhaps she needed some time alone. Aye, mayhap we both do. Darian opened the door and stepped onto the balcony, facing an impatient Monique. She strained to look around him, curious to see the woman who shared his room. But his frame filled the doorway, blocking her childish snooping. Then he quickly shut the door. "I want to see yer new mistress." Monique pouted and stomped her foot again. Then she changed her tactic. "Is she bonnie? Does she pleasure ya like I do?" she asked saucily, sliding her hand across his groin. 141

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A pleased smile curled her ruby lips as she molded her fingers along his erection, mistakenly assuming his desire was for her, when in fact, he was still aroused from his encounter with Cheyenne. Monique slinked her arm through his and led him down the hall toward her bedchamber. "Let's say we get started early tonight," she purred, stopping in front of her door. Darian looked at the made-up red head in front of him. Everything about her was fake—from the overly dark rouge on her high cheekbones, to the flaming color of her frizzy hair. He realized that after a small sample of Cheyenne's purity, no other would do, especially a well-seasoned whore like Monique who was trained to be aroused for every man that walked through the tavern door. Nay, my days of beddin' her are over. I want no one but Cheyenne. Removing his arm from her steely grasp, he stepped out of her reach. "Nae tonight, Monique." Although he tried to soften the rejection as much as possible, he knew she was about to explode in a furious temper tantrum. Seeing the muscles along her jaw tighten in anger and her kohl-traced eyes narrow with disbelief, he readied himself for retaliation. Monique was instantly enraged. An audible smack! echoed down to the patrons below. "Am I nae good enough fer ya now?" she shrieked. "What is she, a virgin? That's it, ain't it? Ya've got yerself a young filly that's in need of breakin'. You'll tire of 'er soon enough. She willna ken how to please ya. 142

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You'll see. Dinna think ya can come crawlin' back to me, Darian Andreas. Because I willna have ya!" Darian tried to be patient as he listened to her rattle on. But he quickly tired of her ridiculous charade and turned on his heels, dismissing her completely. He knew Monique's bed wouldn't go cold tonight—it never did. "I need a drink," he mumbled to himself. Part of him wanted to return to Cheyenne and reassure her that Monique meant nothing to him. He stared at her closed door a long moment, indecisive. Better let it go, fer now. Then he shrugged with defeat and headed toward the stairwell. "Dinna walk away from me, ya bastard!" Monique screamed at his backside. "You'll be sorry! Do ya hear me, Darian? You'll be sorry!" But Darian ignored her and started down the stairs. Monique was the least of his problems. He had to figure out what to do about Cheyenne. Did he announce her existence as the law demanded and risk losing her to some other Lord or High Ranking Official? Or did he hide her existence and risk being charged with treason, punishable by death. Neither option was promising. **** Cheyenne couldn't believe she'd let Darian touch her again. What's wrong with you? Are you looking for heartache? She let out a forlorn sigh. He probably won't bother me any more tonight. Not now that he's got someone else to entertain him. 143

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The door to her room slowly creaked open. Cheyenne yelped and pulled the blankets up to her chin, afraid Darian had decided to come back after all. But it was just Brigette, carrying an armful of what looked like several articles of clothing. Brigette instantly took in the distressed look on Cheyenne's face. "Dinna fret, dear. He's nae with Monique." Cheyenne started to explain that she didn't care where he was or who he was with, but decided it didn't matter. Brigette was holding up the prettiest dress she'd ever seen and her attention was temporarily distracted from all thoughts of Darian and his loud-mouthed mistress. She slipped from the safety of the bed and approached the dress. She shook her head when Brigette held the gown out to her. "I couldn't possibly—" "Dinna be silly, of course ya can," Brigette chided. "This'll look absolutely marvelous on ya. Besides, I certainly can't wear it. To tell ya the truth, I dinna ken why I've kept it all these passes. I haven't taken this dress out of the cedar chest since ... well, let's just say a very long time." A taut expression briefly darkened her jovial features before melting back into a beaming smile. Cheyenne thought perhaps Brigette was about to say something that might have been painful. But apparently she changed her mind. The dress was breathtaking. It had layer upon layer of sleek, tangerine satin that parted in the middle to reveal several rows of ruffled, white lace beneath. The tight bodice was over-laid with ornamental tatting and held together by a 144

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thin ribbon, which criss-crossed in the middle. The sleeves were short and puffy, and the neckline was cut daringly low. Cheyenne held it up against herself and looked into the mirror. It would look flattering against her golden skin. She'd always dreamed of wearing a dress such as this, and wondered what it would be like to have lived in the old days when women wore long flowing gowns and accessorized with umbrellas, and lacy fans, and— "Hurry now, lass. I still have to fix yer hair an' the saloon's startin' to get busy." Brigette handed her several other items. Cheyenne stared at the strange garments in her hands. She had no idea what went first or how to even put them on. She began to panic. "I've never ... Can you help me?" She implored Brigette with her eyes not to probe for an explanation. Brigette quietly pondered her a long moment, her expression blank. She started to say something, but clamped her mouth shut. Then she shrugged and set about helping Cheyenne get dressed. Once Brigette had finished piling on layer upon layer of the most uncomfortable clothes Cheyenne had ever had the displeasure of wearing, she tackled her hair. Using small metal clips resembling bobby pins, she managed to get the long, silky locks pulled up on top of her head, leaving only a few strands to cascade down her back like strips of black satin. Then she wove a peach-colored ribbon through various places to accent the color of the dress. Lastly, she put a pair of tear-shaped, pearl earrings and a necklace with a matching pendant on her. And when Brigette 145

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turned Cheyenne around to face the mirror, she could hardly believe her eyes. Even she had to admit she looked beautiful. "Auck! I knew ya'd clean up nice," Brigette remarked, clasping her hands together beneath her chin like a gleeful child. "Oh, Brigette. I've never felt so pretty. Do you think Darian will..." Cheyenne caught herself, realizing her slip. "I don't want to look out of place. Uh ... overdressed, I mean." Brigette chuckled. "Honey, ya willna be overdressed. I promise. An' every mon out there is gonna stop dead in his tracks when 'e sees ya. Darian included." Cheyenne smiled. She knew she shouldn't care what Darian thought, but it made her pulse quicken to think he might like how she looked. Then Brigette announced it was time to go, and her stomach dropped to her knees.

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CHAPTER 13 Crystal didn't care what Brigette said. She knew that mark meant something. But why didn't Darian know about it before? And why had he acted like a madman when he found out? Mayhap the girl's a runaway slave. An' she belongs to someone else. Crystal's brows knit together in confusion. Did 'e steal 'er? Realizing the absurdity of that notion, she shook her head in denial. Nay. Darian isn't a mon who needs to pilfer anythin'. She tapped a jagged fingernail against her forehead and thought a moment longer. Then it came to her. That's it! Darian didn't know before. She's a runaway slave, an' 'e had no idea. But who's? Crystal scrunched her nose up in deliberation. As the likely solution dawned, her mouth slowly formed into a shocked O. "Ramekah," she whispered, fearing he might burst through the door at the mere mention of his name. Information like this must be worth somethin'. Crystal leaned against the banister and looked over the burly lot that sat below, wondering who might be willing to pay a few coins for it. Worthless! Naught but a bunch of pickpockets, drunkards, an' thieves. Just then, the brothel door flew open as though announcing the arrival of someone important. Crystal leapt 147

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back from the railing, half expecting Lord Maximus Ramekah himself. Luckily, it wasn't. Auck! Bless the gods. 'Tis someone else. Her hand covered her pounding heart and she breathed a sigh of relief, making a mental note never to say Lord Ramekah's name out loud again. A rather large and intimidating man stepped through the doorway. He carried himself with an air of self-assured superiority, boldly glaring at the tavern's patrons with open condescension. When he spotted a suitable table, he pompously strode across the room, taking no care to avoid bumping into others or cutting into their paths. I know him. She watched through narrowed eyes as he and the rest of his men—all of which were equally ominous—casually strolled into the saloon and sat at a spot in the back of the room. He's ... perfect. She smiled, licking her lips with delight. **** Darian was seated at the bar, preoccupied by his dilemma with Cheyenne and staring at the bottom of his empty tankard. An eerie chill crawled down his spine and the flesh on his arms broke out in tiny goose bumps. Unnerved, he looked up from his mug. His eyes narrowed with disgust. "Chris," he muttered, glaring at his hated half-brother. Apparently undaunted by his irritated scowl, Chris chose a table in the far corner, giving himself a clear view of the bar. He plopped down in one of the chairs and leaned back in his 148

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seat, soundly propping his large feet on the table before him. Then he smiled with all the charm of a deadly snike. Seemingly satisfied that he'd drawn enough attention, he waved cheerily. Darian snorted and turned back to his empty mug. He hoped his brother busied himself with one of the whores and stayed out of his business. Feeling Chris's intrusive stare on his backside, he stood and pushed his stool back from the bar. It made a loud grating sound across the wooden floor, drawing the apprehensive stares of a few of the other patrons. Everyone knew Lord Darian Andreas had a foul temper. And the history with his brother was no secret either. But Darian merely shrugged off his annoying sibling and walked over to where Gavin and Thor were sitting. He wasn't in the mood to fight. Besides, he had more important matters to attend to—namely, Cheyenne. The marking on her backside had him baffled, and a might concerned. He wasn't too sure how he felt about it right now. "I was hopin' we wouldn't see him this time," Gavin stated as Darian slumped down in the seat beside him. Then he drained the last drop of ale from his tankard and motioned for a refill. "As was I," Thor agreed. Darian snorted in response. A short, brown-haired girl with roomy hips and a large bosom hurried over. Gavin teasingly ran a finger along the inside of her bustier, making her squeal with feigned embarrassment. She playfully slapped his hand away and 149

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then made a point to lean forward, unnecessarily bowing over his mug and offering him a better view of her ample cleavage. When she'd straightened, he grabbed the brazen woman and pulled her onto his lap. Holding her firmly by the hips, he pressed her down onto his groin. The whore giggled and bounced around as though trying to squirm free, obviously grinding her bottom against him. "When's yer shift over?" Gavin nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Then his tongue darted out and trailed along the curve of her neck. Turning to face him, she coyly batted her long, dark lashes. "Half hour," she replied with a husky drawl and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed her breasts against his chest, positioning them just under his chin. The tops of her dark nipples peeked out above the frayed edge of her bust line, bulging against the restraining fabric until they nearly popped free. "I'll be waitin'." Gavin's hand slid up her leg and under the tattered hem of her skirt. The whore shrieked and jumped off his lap. Then she giggled with mischief and wagged her finger as though scolding him for bad behavior. But there was no mistaking the unbridled lust in her forest green eyes. This girl was no fool. She knew an Andreas warrior was a coveted prize, for Darian had no tolerance for brutality to women. And compared to some of the other choices about the room—many of which were none too clean and stank worse than day old ale—Gavin was certainly pleasing to the eye. 150

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Gavin swatted her bottom when she stepped away, eliciting another dramatic squeal. Then he turned back to Darian and Thor, a triumphant smile pasted across his handsome face. "Better nae wait too long, ol' mon. The good ones'll be gone," Gavin jested, lifting his mug in a mock salute to Thor. Thor snorted and shrugged with indifference, but his eyes followed the whore across the room as she waited on another table. "I had a bit of that one before," he declared. "A tigress she is. Give me one that's a tad less rough in the saddle." Darian wasn't impressed. He looked at each of the girls about the room and saw them for what they were—women trained to feign desire for any man interested. An' to think, nae too long ago, I was right here with the rest of these fools. My tongue hangin' out like an eager hound, lappin' at Monique's heels, an' begging fer scraps. He wondered what he'd seen in her. Why had he wanted her? She was a fake, just like all the rest. But after glimpsing what true desire felt like with Cheyenne, he knew he'd never settle for anything less. Even Serena paled in comparison. Then he glanced up at Cheyenne's room and smiled, thinking about the look on her face when she'd emerged from the tub and saw him standing there. His mind had captured every detail of her beautiful body, every mole, every curve, every inch. Darian's eyes drifted closed as he savored the delicious vision. "Ya must have somethin' sweet in mind," Gavin stated, interrupting his erogenous daze. 151

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Darian cracked open one lid and looked at his friend. "Perhaps." Then he chuckled. "I was—" Just then, the door to room four opened and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen emerged. He felt the air escape his lungs in one big gush. And his eyes blinked with disbelief as they drank in the stunning image at the railing. But he wasn't the only one to notice the lovely girl in the tangerine dress. Every person in the room had stopped what they were doing to stare. Cheyenne became the center of everyone's attention below. Was he imagining things, or had the air grown still? Darian thought he heard a familiar voice off to his left. But the sound was distant and indistinct, like it came from the bowels of a cavernous hole. He shrugged the annoying disturbance away, choosing instead to focus his interest on her. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, a tightening in his groin. He wanted to rush up the stairs and drag her back into her room so no one else could see her. So he could kiss her and touch her and— "Darian! Are ya listenin', mon?" Gavin punched him on the shoulder. "What? Yeah. Sure. Whatever. What?" Darian briefly glanced at Gavin with irritation, then returned his stare to Cheyenne. **** Gavin shook his head with pity. Poor bloke. He's already hooked. 152

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He quietly pondered the entranced profile of his lifelong friend. Although Darian was the perfect candidate for the prophecy, he may not have any say in the conditions. Gavin just hoped it didn't end in more heartache. He didn't know if Darian could handle another crushing blow. Auck! An' this one may very well be worse than the last! Then Gavin looked upon the awe-inspiring beauty of woman descending the stairwell and lost all thoughts of Darian and prophecies. He felt his throat clench tight and his lungs heave. "May the gods have mercy on us all," he choked softly. **** As Cheyenne descended the stairwell, she felt several pairs of curious eyes upon her. She kept her own downcast, afraid to look at any man lest he take it as an invitation. Rather than risk tripping and making a fool of herself, she focused her attention on the stairs, carefully placing her feet firmly on each step and holding onto the railing as she followed Brigette down to her staggered audience. When she ventured to peek up, her gaze met one that was intense and chilling. Stunned by the man's bold assessment, she couldn't help but stare in return. Second only to Darian, he was the most intimidating figure she'd ever seen. His thick, platinum blond hair was pulled back tightly out of his face. Although she didn't know for sure, Cheyenne guessed it was probably secured at the base of his neck and hung down past his collar in a long ponytail. There was an inherent strength in his finely chiseled features, and his 153

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ruggedly handsome face seemed vaguely familiar. She didn't know why, but she had the unsettling feeling she'd seen him before. As he leaned back in his chair, her eyes quickly fell to the endless expanse of his chest. He seemed enormous and crudely out of place next to the other men at his table. Broad shoulders strained against the tight material of his tan, leather vest. Well-muscled biceps bulged above thick forearms and large square hands. And a firm, flat abdomen rippled and flexed as he settled himself further into his seat. His feet were casually crossed at the ankles and rested easily on the sturdy table before him. Long, corded thighs appeared to jut out from his narrow hips as a suggestion of a powerful base to his mammoth frame. He was a massive, self-confident presence that made her insides quiver with cold fear and unwelcome curiosity. The only drawback to his otherwise appealing features was a long jagged scar that ran down his cheek from the corner of his right eye to the curve of his rigid mouth. Straining to recall where she might have seen him, Cheyenne gasped as she realized she was looking at a replica of Darian. "Tell me that's not—" she began in a tight whisper. "Chris." Brigette's voice was equally raspy. Momentarily leaving her to her own defenses, Brigette hurried down the last few steps and made her way across the room. She stopped before Chris's table. Then she wagged a short meaty finger in front of his prominent nose as though scolding a small child. Although the brothel mistress was no halfling herself, the gesture was 154

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utterly preposterous. She looked to be reprimanding a mischievous ogre who merely lounged before her and grinned with strained tolerance. Whatever Brigette warned him about fell onto deaf ears, because he seemed to be ignoring her as he stared past her plump frame and glanced toward the stairwell. Feeling as though his curious gaze probed her every inch with the meticulousness of an eager scientist dissecting an unfortunate specimen, Cheyenne glanced away. **** Brigette glowered at Chris as she shook her finger at him in warning. "I dinna want any trouble out of you tonight. Do ya hear me?" "Pipe doon, Bridge. Me an' the lads just came fer some sport. I'm sure there's plenty fer all." But Chris's eyes strayed past her, casually taking in the lovely girl who waited on the bottom step. "Who's the new lass?" he asked, licking his bottom lip with obvious interest. "She looks terrified." He stated it as though the idea pleased him. "After havin' all these scabby dogs, includin' yerself, gawkin' at 'er as though they'd like to devour 'er whole, she's probably scared to death. But dinna get yer hopes up. She's nae a new lass, an' she's nae available. That one belongs to yer brother. So ya better just keep yer distance." Chris threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, there's plenty of attractions here. Dinna worry yer bonnie wee head. I didn't come to pick a fight." His lips curled into a wicked 155

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smile. "Besides, she doesn't look too ... experienced. You know I like my women well trained." Brigette's eyes narrowed in disbelief. He wasn't fooling anyone. She could see the desirous gleam in his sparkling green eyes. She'd been in this business too long not to pick up on the subtle signal. "Just make sure ya leave that one be," she cautioned, sending him a silent message of her own that warned she'd be watching. **** An irritated muscle twitched in Chris's jaw as his eyes followed Brigette's retreating backside. He didn't care what she said, that girl was fascinating. And he was intrigued. Glancing at Darian's somber profile, he couldn't help but wonder what this girl was to him. Wouldn't it be simply delicious if he managed to slip another woman out from under his brother's nose? Serena had been a treat, but he was tiring of her childish temper. It's time fer new blood. He grinned as he caught the woman's eye once again and boldly returned her curious stare. Mmm ... delicious. He licked his bottom lip suggestively. Then, with a quick nod of his head, he motioned to her that perhaps they could go upstairs. As though shocked by his brazen offer, her cheeks turned scarlet and she quickly averted her gaze. Could it be she's an innocent? His smile grew even wider as that pleasant thought entered his devious brain. But why would his brother bring 156

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such an exceptional delicacy to a place like this? 'Tis sheer stupidity. Chris watched the girl like an eager predator, taking in the way her body moved with shy grace and how her head remained bowed with humility. After a few moments of careful consideration, he came to the conclusion that she was either a slave or a virgin. Why would my brother go through the trouble of dressin' a drudge in such fine attire? Deep in thought, he stroked his smoothly shaven chin between his thumb and index finger as he pondered the two possibilities. Virgin. He licked his bottom lip again with growing interest as a delightfully wicked idea came to him. If I could get to 'er before Darian ... Motioning for Brine, his second in command, he ushered him over to receive an assignment. Like the slithering of a long sleek pythin, Brine slinked over to his waiting master. Careful not to draw attention, he moved with a slow and deliberate saunter. Casually taking the seat next to him, Brine relaxed into the chair and openly ogled the wench serving at the table next to theirs. He appeared as though he was merely enjoying the view and making his selection for a later rendezvous. "M'Lord?" Brine's voice was a hushed whisper, meant for only one pair of ears. "Did ya see the lass that came doon with Bridge?" Chris asked tersely, waiting patiently as his loyal man-at-arms paused before subtly nodding. "I want to know who she is, where she came from, an' what she is to my brother." 157

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Brine nodded and started to rise. Chris's hand clasped around his warrior's forearm, preventing him from moving. "I expect some information before night's end." His tone was laced with an unspoken threat. But Chris knew his subtle warning wasn't really necessary. Brine was all too aware of what he was capable of when he didn't get his way. The nickname Lord Blood wasn't given to him without reason. "Aye, m'Lord. By night's end." Then Brine rose from his chair and slowly made his way to the door. Pausing every now and then to speak with a comrade or tease one of the whores, he inconspicuously inched toward the exit. Reaching his destination without drawing any unwanted attention, Brine successfully slipped, unnoticed, into the cool night air.

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CHAPTER 14 Cheyenne noticed with growing unease that Chris still openly assessed her as she waited for Brigette—who had stopped at several tables along the way—to return. Apparently, he had no qualms about displaying his interest as she stared in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock at the way he subtly suggested they get to know each other a little better. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks like a blistering sunburn, she tore her eyes away from his wicked grin. "Oh, Jesus!" she breathed quietly. All I need to do is attract his attention. Cheyenne pondered the idea of heading back to the safety of her room. Darian and Chris will be at each other's throat before the night's over. Of course, she realized it would simply be a game to them—winner takes all. And she'd be the unfortunate prize. Gavin's caution about Chris rang like warning bells through her head, sending icy shivers down her spine. When Brigette finally reached her, she took one look at the expression on her face and said, "Ya stay away from that one." Cheyenne somberly nodded her head. Don't worry. I don't plan on getting anywhere near him! The tavern was busy, every table taken, every chair filled. Even the bar was packed with a hodgepodge of coarse men whose vulgar language blended into the growing roar of 159

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voices around them. Brigette seemed edgy as she scanned the bawdy crowd. "Do ya think ya can get over to Darian okay?" she asked, eyeballing a table near the end of the bar that seemed to be brewing its own dilemma. Cheyenne reluctantly nodded her head. Then she watched with mixed feelings of desertion and fear as Brigette darted toward the troublesome group, leaving her to transverse the crowded room alone. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped off the last stair. As she slowly made her way across the floor, Cheyenne had to fight the urge to flee. No longer preoccupied with Chris, she focused her full attention on the man who casually lounged in his chair and patiently watched her approach. Don't trip. Don't falter. And for God's sake, don't faint! Her insides quivered like a bowl of gelatin as Darian boldly raked her from head to foot, critically scanning every inch before beaming approval. When her gaze met his, her heart turned over in response, falling to an unnatural position somewhere below her knees. Feeling as though she walked on gangly stilts, Cheyenne forced herself to remain calm and appear unmoved by his seductive smile. **** Like two dumbfounded idiots who'd suddenly lost their ability to speak, Gavin and Thor sat beside Darian, one on either side, and stared at Cheyenne in shocked silence. Several long moments passed before Gavin cleared his throat 160

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and asked, "Is that the same terrified an' disheveled lass we found only yesterday?" "Aye, I believe it is." Darian's reply was barely audible. He felt as though he were smothering. Gavin took a long swig from his mug before slamming it down on the table. "Auck! Put yer tongue back in ol' mon. I told ya she weren't no bairn." Thor reached up to stroke his long wiry whiskers as he continued to stare at Cheyenne. "Nay, she's no bairn. I had no ... whew!" But Darian only vaguely registered his comrades. His gaze was riveted on the beautiful vision looming before him. May the gods forgive my lunacy. I shouldn't have brought 'er here. Then he shook his head, trying to bring back his senses. "Yeah, well, dinna get any ideas," he warned Thor teasingly. "I've a mind to make that disheveled lass mine." Gavin and Thor chuckled. "Aye! An' God's luck to ya, m'Lord. Fer yer likely gonna need it!" Gavin lifted his mug as though toasting his claim. Darian grinned, then waved off his friend's jesting with a swish of his hand, all the while never taking his eyes off of Cheyenne. Only a few tables away now, she appeared to float toward him like a winged angel in a heavenly dream. He found himself holding his breath as she approached, afraid her ethereal image would vanish and he'd be left wondering if the dark-skinned beauty had really existed, or if she'd just been a figment of his imagination. **** 161

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Unable to break the magic woven between them, Cheyenne's eyes locked with Darian's and he became the only object in her field of vision. Suddenly, the room was filled with only him. All other distractions faded into oblivion as she focused solely on his handsome face. Ignoring the lewd suggestion made by a brawny man to her left as she passed by his seat, Cheyenne continued toward her destination in a dream-like trance. So intent on reaching Darian, it wasn't until a beefy hand shot out and seized her wrist that she snapped back to reality. In the next instant, she was unwillingly hauled onto the lap of a complete stranger. One, she noticed with growing aversion, who didn't care whether she objected or not. The man's eager hands transgressed over every curve of her body, painfully squeezing and groping her breasts and inner thighs. Although she struggled vehemently against his brazen assault, desperately trying to get away, he seemed unconcerned that his advance was unwanted. And when he whispered vulgarities into her ear, his breath was so repulsive, she thought she might retch with disgust. "Let me go!" She clawed at his forearms. "You son-of-a—" Her words were cut off as a loud crash reverberated through the entire room, immediately drawing everyone's amused attention away from them. The man's invading fingers quickly halted as he took in the intimidating form of the outraged giant before him. "Lord Andreas," he stammered, hastily shoving Cheyenne off his lap like she was the one to blame for his infidelity. "I had no idea the wench belonged to you." The man jumped up 162

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from his chair, holding his hands out before him in surrender and backed away from Darian's advance. Cheyenne landed in a heap on the floor with a surprised oomph! The hem of her dress flew up over her head in a puff of peachy satin, exposing her lace-trimmed bloomers and fishnet panty hose to half the patrons in the bar. Embarrassed, she quickly smoothed down her skirt and got to her feet. Wench? Cheyenne harrumphed and straightened her gown. She was just about to tell the presumptuous ass to go to hell when she noticed Darian's expression. Her anger froze on the tip of her tongue. If looks could kill, then her perpetrator would surely be dead, for murder blazed like a rampant fire in Darian's unwavering glare. His teeth were clenched tight, making the muscles in his jaw quiver. His lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl, like a ravenous animal prepared for attack. His thick brows were deeply furrowed above his prominent nose. And his eyes had narrowed into thin, angry slits and darkened to a lethal black hue. Sensing an impending fight, Cheyenne threw herself in Darian's path. "Darian, wait! He didn't know. It's all right. He didn't hurt me, really. Let's just forget it happened." As though seconding her suggestion, the man eagerly nodded and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, m'Lady. Please accept my humble apologies. I shouldn't have assumed—" "Enough!" Darian's anger boomed through the hushed room. "I should thrash ya fer takin' liberties with my 163

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property. But I dinna want to upset the lass any more than she already is. Consider yerself lucky." The man graciously nodded, then slinked away. Cheyenne couldn't believe her ears. Property? Just who the hell did he think he was? "I'm not—" Darian's lethal scowl instantly silenced her. Then his fingers wrapped around her elbow with a firm grasp and he led her toward his table—which now lay on its side and crudely out of place. With the immediate dilemma apparently settled, Gavin and Thor quickly righted the overturned table and pulled the chairs back over to nestle along the sides. Then they both collapsed heavily into their seats, sighing with obvious disappointment. "Ah Hades, Darian. I was lookin' forward to a brawl," Thor pouted. "Why'd ya have to go an' be all chivalrous?" Darian snorted with annoyance, then yanked out a chair and motioned for Cheyenne to sit. He dropped into the seat opposite hers. "Wasn't my idea. If I'd had my way, I'd a—" "Is that how you settle everything around here? With brute force?" Cheyenne asked incredulously. "Doesn't anyone have enough sense to use reason? Logic? Compromise?" Gavin huffed as though her suggestion was ridiculous. "What's the use of that? I'd prefer to get a good taste of someone's hide when they've wronged me." "How did he wrong anyone but me?" Cheyenne couldn't believe this. She was violated. Not them. 164

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Turning her fury on Darian, she folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a heated glare. "You bring me to a whore house where every woman is available, and yet you expect these men to know I'm not." Her tone was thick with condescension. "Why wouldn't they? Because I look different than the others? Certainly not, my clothing is just as revealing." She leaned across the table toward him, lowering her voice to an angry whisper. "If you didn't want anyone to assume I was fair game, then you shouldn't have brought me here." An irritated muscle twitched in Darian's jaw. His lips thinned with displeasure and his eyes darkened once again to a dangerous hue. "Are ya finished?" His tone seemed deceptively calm, and a chill of alarm raced down her spine. Rather than wait for her reply, he continued on in a low voice laced with warning. "I decided to come here fer reasons I'm sure ya wouldn't want to discuss in their presence," he growled, nodding toward Gavin and Thor. "We'll be leavin' on the morrow. As far as who was wronged, a mon ne'er touches another's property without payin' the consequences. I was well within my right to challenge 'im. He's lucky I didn't slice 'im open from gullet to—" "Property?" Cheyenne shrieked indignantly. "Is that what you think? I'm not your property. Not yours or anyone else's!" The line of Darian's mouth tightened a fraction more before he contradicted her with an amused smile that set her nerves on edge. "Ah, but yer wrong, my dear," he began in a low, seductive drawl. "I do own ya. Yer mine to do with as I please." 165

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**** Even though the excitement of an impending fight was over, Darian was quite aware that all eyes were still upon them as Cheyenne verbally expressed her opinion, something a woman wasn't supposed to do. She was making him look foolish in front of everyone, including his brother, who was the last person he wanted to give an edge. "Just who do you think you are?" Her indigo eyes flashed with outrage. He knew she was furious. And the murderous gleam in her lovely gaze was nearly his undoing. Trying to keep from grabbing her and kissing her luscious peach lips, he smiled with as much boyish charm as he could muster and said, "Lord Darian Andreas. An' yer my captive. Hence, my property." Darian knew he was being an ass, but he couldn't let her dishonor him in front of everyone without calling her bluff and saving face. Caught up in his own pleasure at having verbally bested her, he was totally unprepared for her next mode of attack. A sharp smack! reverberated through the unusually quiet room as her open palm connected with his cheek. Searing heat instantly rushed to the spot, giving obvious verification that she'd just bested him. She glared defiance, then tossed a loose strand of hair back over her shoulder while eyeing him with a haughty air of triumph. Namit! That's twice in one night. He wasn't having much luck with his women. At least it's on the opposite cheek. I'll have matchin' bruises on the 166

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morrow! Shoving aside his uncalled for humor in light of the fact that he was fast becoming the laughing stock of the tavern, he realized there was only one way to regain everyone's respect. **** Cheyenne recoiled in horror as the look on Darian's face turned from shock to smug delight. He totally disarmed her as his lips curled into a satanic smile that reached all the way to his dancing eyes. What's he up to? Thinking that perhaps now would be a good time to excuse herself, she started to get up. A firm hand closed over her wrist with an unbreakable grasp, preventing her escape. She bit her bottom lip to stifle the cry of pain as Darian's steely fingers bit into her tender flesh. Panic rioted through her insides. Is he going to hit me back? Motioning for one of the girls to bring him a drink, Darian never took his eyes off hers as the eager barmaid hurried over. He emptied the mug with one long swig and slammed the empty tankard on the table, seemingly making sure he had everyone's complete attention. Then, ever so slowly and with obvious intimidation, he pulled her arm across the table, dragging her toward him until her bottom had left its spot on the chair and she was helplessly bent over the oak structure in an obscene stance. "Shall we finish this upstairs?" His voice was loud enough to reach the ears of every person in the room. And before she could respond, he jumped 167

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up from his seat and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, knocking the empty mug off the table and overturning both their chairs. Cheyenne let out a startled yelp as she felt herself being flung upward. The air was squeezed from her lungs in one big whoosh! when her belly landed heavily across his shoulder. She immediately began to struggle, kicking her feet and pushing her palms against his lower back. But Darian seemed oblivious as he headed for the staircase with long determined strides. "Put me down, Darian! You don't own—" "Quiet, woman!" His harsh bark easily drowned out her protests. Then he slapped her soundly on the rump, issuing a room full of encouraging hollers from their delighted spectators. Cheyenne froze when his hand connected with her bottom. Although he didn't really hurt her, she was stunned by the fact he actually did it. And not only that, the realization that everyone found it amusing instead of objectionable was paralyzing. Isn't anyone going to stop him? Struggling to look up through the curtain of dark hair that had pulled free from its restraints and now spilled downward like a black waterfall, she turned pleading eyes toward Gavin and Thor. But when her frantic gaze met theirs, they turned away, as if to say, "You've made your bed, now sleep in it." "Darian, please don't," she begged, hoping to break through his determination and find the so-called mercy Gavin claimed was in him. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I 168

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promise." But he was apparently unmoved by her desperate plea, for he continued on toward his destination without missing a beat. As his foot broached the first step of the staircase, fullfledged panic hit Cheyenne square in the chest, making her tremble with fright. This was a side of Darian she'd rather not see. Why had she been so obstinate? Cheyenne realized, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that slapping him had been too much. She'd embarrassed him in front of everyone, now she'd pay the price. And what a steep retribution it would be.

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CHAPTER 15 Chris carefully scanned the room, looking for a woman to spend time with before Brine returned with his coveted information. He'd just decided on a voluptuous brunette when a tall, lanky girl with dull brown hair and tiny breasts plopped down in his lap. At first he started to shove her away, but a soft whisper against his ear called his attention. "Ya interested in the dark-skinned wench?" She nuzzled his neck and nibbled his lobe. Chris swiftly slid his hand up her narrow side. His fingers molded around one small breast and squeezed tightly. "Ya best nae be playin' games with me, lass. I dinna care fer bein' toyed with." The girl gasped with pain and tried to pull away. But Chris held her tightly, preventing any last minute change of plans. Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her face next to his, bringing her so close their noses nearly touched. "I'm waitin'," he growled, loving the sudden look of terror in her dull gray eyes. She inhaled a shaky breath, then offered him her information with a nervous stutter. Chris smiled with satisfaction as the scrawny whore told him all the delicious details of Darian's mystery girl. It was almost too good to be true. "Ya say the mark's on 'er backside? Right here?" He wanted to make sure he knew exactly where to look when he had her within his grasp. 170

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"Aye," the girl replied hoarsely as his fingers firmly pressed into her lower spine. "You'll be rewarded handsomely," Chris lied, wondering how he could get rid of her. He was just about to suggest she meet him later when a commotion across the room caught his ear. It appeared as though the little black-haired wench had found her way onto another man's lap, and Darian wasn't too happy about it. Shoving the homely girl aside, he watched with growing amusement as their little drama played out. What fun it'll be to relieve my brother of such a lovely burden. First, he'd bed her, wallowing in her screams as he pierced through her maidenhead. Then, he'd investigate this mysterious symbol on her lower back. He knew it was probably nothing, just an innocent birthmark. But for some strange reason, his intuition told him it might be something more. Chris was just conjuring up all the wicked ways he intended on enjoying her sweet body when he noticed the tiff between Darian and her had escalated. He almost laughed out loud when the little vixen daringly slapped his brother across the face. She's quite a tigress! He hoped she was defiant when he took her, instead of dissolving into pitiful tears and pleas for mercy like most girls did. Their pathetic cries really annoyed him, almost to the point of robbing his pleasure. Almost. 171

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When Darian responded by tossing the girl over his shoulder and heading for the staircase, Chris knew he had to take action. If he didn't do something quick, all his plans of snatching that delicious morsel out from under his arrogant brother were going to be spoiled. It certainly wouldn't be as much fun if Darian bedded her first. Maybe this was just what he needed, a perfect distraction and brilliant opportunity to become her hero. While everyone else cheered Darian onward, he'd come to her rescue, seemingly appalled by his brother's brutish behavior. Chris stroked the scar on his cheek as he quickly devised a plan. I'm sure to gain 'er favor. Jumping up from his chair, he purposely strode toward the retreating figures of his brother and the struggling woman. Although having to act a hero was loathsome, he had to admit that he rather admired Darian's coarse behavior. Perhaps he was becoming a little more like himself. Ahh ... the Andreas blood doth flow through both our veins. Even though they differed in many ways, they always did share similar taste in women. More so than Darian even knew. "I believe the lass has expressed a refusal to yer offer," Chris yelled. "Do ya plan on defilin' 'er against 'er wishes? In the presence of all these witnesses?" **** Cheyenne felt the muscles in Darian's brawny frame stiffened in anger. He froze, one foot on the bottom step, as 172

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though the voice wracked his insides and set his nerves on edge. Then he slowly lowered her feet to the floor and held onto her wrist as he turned to face his advancing brother. "Stay out of this, Chris. She's nae yer business." The menace in Darian's voice chilled her to the bone. She glanced up at his rigid profile and almost wished she hadn't. His firm lips were pulled back over clenched teeth in a terrifying grimace. His brows were deeply furrowed at the bridge of his nose. And sparks of fury flashed through his green eyes. Cheyenne noticed the room had once again grown uncomfortably quiet. Everyone was alert with eager anticipation. The air became so charged with aggression and arrogance, she imagined you could cut through the egotistical male vibes with a dull butter knife. Then, as though preparing for an all out war, the scraping of chairs and tables reverberated through the tavern as everyone quickly moved furniture out of the way, leaving a large, empty space in the middle. Not wanting to be the cause of an unnecessary fight, Cheyenne hastily tried to douse the sparking emotions, but only managed to stoke an already mounting fire. "Look, guys, this really isn't necessary. Darian, Chris, you two shouldn't—" As soon as she'd said his brother's name, Cheyenne knew she'd made a mistake. Darian glared down at her, first with blank confusion, then with explosive rage. Oh, God. Why didn't I keep my mouth shut? 173

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"How do ya know 'im?" he demanded, jaw clenching, eyes blazing. When she didn't answer, he roughly pulled her around to stand between them. Cheyenne couldn't suppress the small cry that escaped her lips as pain shot through her wrist. "How?" he yelled. Cheyenne jumped as though she'd been shocked. At first she was cowered by his brutality. But then her fear turned to anger. He had no right to treat her this way! Besides, it seemed as though she might have a savior after all. Perhaps Darian's brother wasn't the scoundrel the others claim him to be. Thus far, Chris seemed to be the only one concerned with the fact that his supercilious brother was dragging her upstairs to have his way with her, whether she agreed or not. Despite the trembling of her limbs, Cheyenne glared right back at Darian with feigned defiance. "I don't!" Then she wrenched her arm, struggling to pull free of his cruel grasp. "Thor and Gavin told me about him!" Darian cast his two men-at-arms a furious glare that said, "I'll deal with you two later," before returning his attention back to her. His grip on her wrist tightened. "How did ya know it was him?" Cheyenne stared at Darian with speechless disbelief. Surely he isn't that idiotic. She looked from one brother to the other several times, marveling at their replicated features. With only a few discrepancies, they were practically twins! 174

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Realizing Darian was beyond reasoning, she quickly thought up an acceptable excuse. "Brigette pointed him out when we were coming down the steps earlier." Well, it was half-true. She wouldn't bother telling him that she'd been the one to notice him first. That little tidbit of information probably wouldn't go over real well at this tense moment. Cheyenne glanced at Chris through lowered lashes. "She told me to stay away from him. And that he's trouble." She wished Chris would get the hint that she wasn't interested and go away. She really didn't want to be the cause of a fight. Unfortunately, he merely responded with a cocked brow and an amused grin. Realizing her ploy wasn't going to work, she turned her attention back to his outraged brother. "Darian," she pleaded softly, begging him silently with her eyes to remember there was no way she could know his brother. She'd practically fallen out of the sky and landed in his lap, and hadn't been anywhere on this crazy planet except in his presence. Come on, you jealous dolt! You've got to know that. He loosened his grip on her wrist. But his expression remained cold and stone-like. It was obvious the matter was far from settled. Cheyenne gulped as her prior defiance quickly deflated back into fear. Darian turned his scowl to his brother. "We'll finish this another time," he growled with warning.

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Then he started up the stairs again, ignoring Cheyenne's protests as he drug her up behind him. They had barely made it halfway when Chris's persistent challenge halted his step. "I say, Lord Andreas," Chris started with a sneer. "The lass has made it clear that she doesn't wish to go upstairs with ya. Do ya refuse my challenge fer the right to accompany 'er instead?" Cheyenne nearly choked on her shock as his apparent intent reached her ears. He wasn't trying to save her; he was merely using her as a means to enrage his brother. If he thought she'd refuse Darian, only to willingly let him have his way with her, then he had another thing coming. Yanking free of Darian's grasp with a sudden burst of fury, Cheyenne pushed past him and ascended the last few steps to the balcony. Turning back to face them, she placed her hands on her hips in a stance of boldness, squared her shoulders, and proudly lifted her chin. "I don't care about his little game you two have going here, but let me tell you both something. I have no intention of allowing either one of you to accompany me to my room. I won't be the prize for your ridiculous male warfare. I'm sure the both of you can find a willing partner for this evening." With that, she turned on her heels, walked purposely to room four, and went inside, slamming and locking the door behind her. **** Darian stared at her closed door for a few moments before turning his attention back to his lingering brother. Feeling his 176

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temper on the verge of explosion, he struggled to restrain himself. An irritated muscle worked in his jaw and his eyes narrowed with disgust. If he followed after Cheyenne and demanded she let him in, he'd have to contend with Chris's challenge. As much as I'd love to beat the Hades out of 'im, I can't risk havin' 'er fall into my brother's hands. Although there was no doubt he could best him, Chris had a tendency to change the rules to his advantage. And if he lost the challenge... Nay. There was no way he'd let his brother get a hold of her, even if it meant swallowing his pride and ducking out of a fight. He hoped Cheyenne realized how much he was sacrificing for her. Calmly walking back down the steps, Darian stopped directly in front of his adversary. "Well, thanks to you, neither one of us will be enjoyin' 'er company," he stated flatly. Then turned on his heels and strode back over to rejoin Gavin and Thor. **** Chris's gaze lingered on Darian's retreating backside. He could still call his brother's bluff and demand he take the challenge, but he'd already accomplished what he'd set out to do, which was stopping him from going upstairs with the girl. His thoughts turned to her. The more information he gathered about this captivating woman, the more interested he grew. 177

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He'd listened to her defiant outburst with speechless amusement. And he'd never seen Darian avoid a fight. This girl certainly afforded some more investigation. He stroked his chin in thought. How long has my brother been hidin' this luscious, dark-skinned beauty? She has a spirit fit fer breakin'. An' I'm inclined to do so. But how can I get 'er away from him? Chris glanced over at his brother, now seated next to Gavin and Thor. His eyes were glued on the girl's closed door. Even now, he watches after 'er like a diligent hound. Chris quickly scanned the room, trying to take note of how many warriors were in his brother's attendance. Less than a dozen. But he'd scarcely brought a handful himself, and was certainly unprepared for a fight. Nay, I'll have to come up with another solution. Shrugging with feigned indifference, he also strode back to his table, whistling along the way. Then he plopped down in his chair and waited for his armsman to reappear. Within a few minutes, Brine slipped back inside the tavern. Chris immediately spotted him and waited with eager anticipation for the coveted information about Darian's golden beauty. He hoped his warrior had found out more than what the scrawny whore had already told him. **** Brine casually made his way back over to his Lord's table. Taking the seat next to him as he'd done before, he waited until he was sure no one was suspicious of his recent 178

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disappearance before divulging the interesting details he'd gotten from their spy. Leaning back in his chair in a semblance of relaxed ease, he was only a few inches away from Lord Blood's ear when he spoke. "M'Lord, I have some rather intriguin' news." Not waiting for Chris's acknowledgement, he hurried on to explain. "Her name is Cheyenne. Seems she mysteriously appeared yesterday at the borders of Goetic Forest, near the Rhian Mountains. The informant says there was a blindin' light an' a deafenin' boom, almost like an angry bellow of the Thunder God. An' then, she was just there, as if she'd appeared by magic." Brine struggled to restrain his excitement. He knew his Lord would be pleased. "Did 'e say anythin' about a strange mark on 'er lower back?" Brine winced as he realized he'd failed to get all the information Lord Blood wanted, but continued on in hopes of remaining in good graces with the easily perturbed man. "Nay, but 'e did say she claimed to be from Earth." He paused, debating whether or not he was stepping over his boundaries. He took a deep breath and mustered his courage. "Two of yer guards wait in the alley below 'er window. There's another at the door. Ya've only to give the word an' she's as good as yers." When Chris's face lit up with satisfaction, Brine exhaled with relief. He could tell Lord Blood was pleased with his strategic maneuver. With all Darian's men so involved in whoring, they'd likely slip in, kidnap her, and be well on their way to Warban Castle before he even knew she was gone. 179

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**** Chris smiled broadly. Yes, he was very happy with his second in command. He would remain at the tavern for the night, so as not to raise Darian's suspicion. Then he'd leave just before daybreak. And when he returned home on the morrow, there'd be a delicious treat waiting for him. With a quick nod of his head, he gave the order for it to be done. "There's somethin' else that needs taken care of before we leave," Chris began, turning his attention to the scrawny whore who'd approached him only moments ago. Brine raised his arm, feigning a stretch as he displayed the secret hand signal to the armsman waiting by the tavern's exit. "Aye?" "Ya see the lass by the bar? The young one with the stringy hair?" Chris trained his gaze on her unsuspecting backside. "Crystal. Aye, I know which one ya mean. Do ya fancy 'er? Ya want me to—" "Nay. She's as shapeless as a willow reed," Chris sneered. He flared his nostrils with disgust. Sometimes he wondered about Brine's taste in women. The man seemed to have no concern for beauty or cleanliness. He, on the other hand, took great care in his selection. And his brother's prize was by far the most delectable treat he'd seen in a long while. "She knows too much about Darian's dark-skinned beauty. Take care of it." 180

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A wicked smile curled the corners of Brine's thin lips. "Aye. With pleasure, m'Lord." **** As soon as the guard saw Brine's command, he slipped out the door, unnoticed, and crept around back to the two men waiting in the alley. "No screw-ups, or Lord Blood will have our heads removed an' bathe in our innards," he warned with a terse whisper. "An' dinna get any idea's about touchin' 'er. Nae if ya value the tool on yer groin. I hear 'e delights in castration." They somberly nodded agreement and set about completing the ordered task with quiet and adept skill.

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CHAPTER 16 Once within the safety of her room, Cheyenne nearly collapsed with emotion. She leaned against the door for support. Albeit her outward display of boldness, her legs were shaking, threatening to give out from under her. She couldn't believe she'd managed to get away from both of them without starting a fight, or losing her dignity. She anxiously held her breath, expecting at any moment for Darian to burst through the door. The minutes slowly slipped by, and still there was no knock or demand for entrance into the sanctuary of her small room. Perhaps he's decided I'm too much to bother with. There was certainly an overabundance of women out there, all of whom were more than eager to share his bed, and none of whom would likely require the fight with his brother that being with her would. The realization depressed her. She imagined he'd probably already chosen someone else. Monique, despite her previous declarations, would no doubt welcome him back into her room with open arms, among other things. Deciding he'd moved on, she pushed away from the door and headed for the dressing table. When she sat down, she nearly laughed out loud as she looked into the mirror and saw the disheveled woman that stared back. I can't believe they'd fight over me.

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But she knew it really didn't have anything to do with looks. Chris was simply trying to irritate his brother, and using her to do so. Sighing with fatigue, Cheyenne began removing the cumbersome clothing that had suddenly become tight and suffocating. How do women wear this stuff all day long? She longed for her favorite jogging pants and oversized tee. Shaking her head at the absurdity of her thoughts, she realized with startling clarity that she might never return to the things she knew. She might never go home. But then again, if she did, she'd leave Darian behind, and for some reason, she didn't like that idea too much either. Cheyenne managed to squeeze out of all the restrictive garments, with the exception of the lightweight chemise, which she left on for a nightgown. Feeling exhaustion overwhelm her, she blew out the candles on the dressing table and nightstand, and crawled into bed, happily sliding beneath the velvet coverlet. Although thoughts of Darian making love to someone else still plagued her, she quickly fell into a deep sleep. Feeling the bed weighed down, Cheyenne woke with a start. Momentarily confused by her surroundings, she started to sit up. But a large hand clamped over her mouth and pressed her back down. Screaming against the restraining palm, she immediately began to struggle. She clawed at the man's burly arm and kicked out with her feet, desperately trying to break free of his suffocating grasp. But he was too strong, and easily held her in place while he motioned toward the window. 183

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Straining in the dark to see her attacker, she was filled with paralyzing fear as she realized the narrow frame couldn't possibly belong to Darian. Someone else had snuck in her room. A movement to her right caught her attention and Cheyenne's eyes grew round with terror as she saw another form separate from the shadows. Darian! her mind summoned, trying to send out a silent plea for help. Cheyenne bit the dirty palm covering her mouth and received a sharp slap across the cheek in return. She choked on a pained sob as her head snapped to the side. When she opened her mouth to scream, a thick cloth was shoved between her lips, muffling her cry for help. The two men quickly subdued her with a scratchy rope. Then they eased her tightly bound frame through the window and dropped her into the waiting arms of another man below. Feeling herself fall, Cheyenne let out a terrified yelp. But the gag stifled her cry and the sound reached no one's ears but her own. Realizing that within a matter of moments they'd be gone and Darian may never find her, Cheyenne renewed her struggle. She thrashed and bucked with her bound legs, sending her surprised captor careening backward into the tavern wall. Then she screamed and yelled as loud as she could through the bitter tasting cloth, trying to alert anyone who might be around front. "Silence her!" one of the men hissed, his voice sharp with alarm. **** 184

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With a quick blow to the temple, the man who had caught Cheyenne knocked her unconscious. Then he hefted her over his shoulder and moved away from the building so the others could join him. His two comrades slipped out the window and dropped to the ground. As their boots hit the dirt, they paused, making sure no one had heard. Then they led the horses away from the tavern, softly encouraging them to move in silence. When they were a safe distance from the tavern, the man tossed Cheyenne over his steed. Her motionless frame lay draped across the animal's neck like a rolled up carpet, and to any curious onlookers, she looked to be nothing more than a large bedroll. Mounting behind her, he took up the reins and clicked his tongue, nudging his horse to go forward. Until they were sure no one had discovered her disappearance, they rode in silence. When they'd reached the outskirts of town without detection, he was satisfied their mission had been successful and urged his horse into a full gallop. With a heavy hand on her backside, the man kept Cheyenne's lifeless body from sliding off the saddle as they raced toward Warban Castle. **** Darian wasn't even remotely interested in any of the whores who propositioned him that night. He could think of only one woman he wanted to spend the night with, and she'd made it quite clear he wasn't welcome. Gavin, Thor, and most 185

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of his gang had already retired, their chosen bed partners in tow. Even Chris had slinked off. And before he knew it, everyone had either left or was passed out on the floor. Darian snorted with disgust. He walked to the back of the tavern, stepping over latent bodies and dodging tables. Choosing a large chair near the wall, he plopped down with a heavy sigh, stretched out his tired legs, and attempted to get comfortable. It's gonna be a long night. After a lot of shifting, he finally drifted off. Darian didn't know how long he'd been asleep, when a disturbing sensation jerked him awake. His first thought was of Cheyenne. He didn't know why, but he had a crushing urge to check on her. Somethin's wrong, his instinct warned, as he started for the stairwell. Quickly ascending the stairs, he strode down the long balcony to her room and lightly knocked on her door. "Cheyenne?" Not wanting to startle her or disturb anyone else, he kept his voice low. She didn't answer. Darian knocked a little louder, trying to suppress the ridiculous notion that she wasn't in there. Of course she's in there. Where else would she be? When she still failed to respond, Darian became alarmed. Mayhap somethin's happened. Mayhap she's ill or injured or... Taking hold of the doorknob, he tried to turn it. Locked. "Namit!" God's teeth, woman, but yer a mulish wench! 186

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He scowled at the offending barrier. Is she still angry? He knew he'd acted like an ass earlier, but he didn't think his behavior warranted this type of treatment. Still, he couldn't shake the uneasiness that gripped his innards. As much as he hated to bother Brigette, he knew he had to get into Cheyenne's room. Since busting through the door wasn't a rational option, the only alternative was a key. He just hoped Brigette had one. Within a few minutes, Brigette and Darian were standing outside of Cheyenne's bedroom, quietly unlocking the knob. Hearing the releasing click, Darian took hold of the handle and shoved the door open. Then he barged inside the silent room without hesitation. His eyes scanned the interior, taking in the strewn clothes and discarded blankets heaped upon the floor. Before his gaze fell to the empty bed, his stomach had dropped to his feet. As he looked upon the spot where Cheyenne should be sleeping and saw nothing but a lonely pillow, he nearly howled in panic. Also seeing the barren bed, Brigette immediately began searching every inch of the room. "Cheyenne?" Seemingly unconcerned about the other patrons, she yelled loudly. "Where are ya, lass?" After several calls, she turned an apprehensive gaze to Darian. "She's got to be here somewhere," she declared, as though not believing the girl was somehow missing. "She's gone, Bridge. The windows open. The room's a disaster. She's nae here." Darian's tone was dejected as he felt the sinking of despair. 187

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I shouldn't have been so... Ever so slowly, his fear melted into anger. It was obvious Cheyenne didn't leave of her own free will. First of all, he was certain she wouldn't jump from the window—it was a very long way to the ground. Secondly, why would she steal out into the night without any clothes? No, there was only one solution—she'd been taken. And Darian had an unsettling notion of who was behind it. Chris. "Quick, roust everyone! Someone knows of this, an' I intend on findin' out who!" Brigette rushed from the room and began pounding on the doors, demanding everyone get up. Albeit a lot of grumbling and complaints, all patrons of the tavern slowly filed down the stairs to the bar area to await Darian's thorough interrogation. It didn't take long to realize none of Chris's lot were present, and neither was he. Although everyone remembered seeing Cheyenne, no one seemed to know anything about her disappearance. Darian was just at his wits end when he realized someone else was missing. Crystal hadn't bothered to grace them with her presence either. I knew that chit would cause trouble. "Where's the skinny wench?" Darian pierced Brigette with a murderous scowl. "I'll ... find 'er," she replied, hastily excusing herself. Brigette rushed up the steps as fast as her plump frame would carry her. Then she raced to room one and barged through the door without bothering to knock. "Crystal!" 188

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Even from the lower level, Darian could hear Brigette's horrified cry. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he was up the stairwell and in the room within seconds. Totally unprepared for the sight that greeted him, he cursed loudly when he saw the badly beaten and unconscious form that lay in a heap on the bed. "Is she..." he asked tightly, anger filling every pore. He was certain this was his brother's doing. He hadn't wanted to admit it before, to face the possibility. Some small part of him had hoped against all hope that Cheyenne was still here, perhaps hiding. But the startling realization dawned on him like a lead weight. And it was all he could do to keep from bellowing his anguish. With a worried frown, Brigette gently turned Crystal's swollen and bruised face toward her. Leaning down, she listened for the expel of breath, a telltale sign there was still life in the horribly battered body. After only a few seconds, an exultant smile returned to her jovial features. "Bless the gods! She's alive!" Darian exhaled with relief. Although the girl would no doubt suffer tremendously for several days, at least she escaped with her life. Chris's brutality had to stop. No woman deserved to be treated this way. Not even a homely waif like this. Crystal stirred, struggling to open her swollen eyes. "Brigette?" Her voice was barely audible. "I'm here, lass. Dinna try to talk. Yer gonna be all right." Crystal pushed weakly against the bed as she struggled to sit up. "Nay, I have to tell ya what I've done." Her arms 189

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trembled with the exertion. "Ya have ... to save ... 'er," she choked out between pained gasps. Darian set Brigette gently but firmly aside and squatted down beside the bed. "Who, Crystal? Who needs to be saved?" His throat tightened with dread. Crystal blinked several times as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she sniveled. "It's my fault. I told 'im about the mark. I didn't know—" "Who?" Darian repeated, a little harsher than he'd intended, but the suspense was killing him. Even before she said it, he knew it was Cheyenne. Crystal shrank away from him as his jaw tightened with barely restrained fury. "Who?" he growled through clenched teeth. "Th ... th ... the dark skinned lass," she muttered. "I told Lord Blood—" Darian stormed out the door. He didn't need to hear any more. Precious time was wasting. If he knew Chris, he'd taken her to his castle where he could keep him out. Or so 'e thinks! Darian fumed with mounting fury. "Gavin, Thor!" He tore down the stairwell, nearly shaking the banister loose from the wall. "We're headin' to Warban. Now! Get the others!" Within minutes, they'd gathered their belongings and mounted the waiting horses. The sky was just beginning to lighten with the early morning sun. Cheyenne's captors probably had several hours advance on them, but Darian didn't care. He would drive his horse until it dropped over dead if need be, but they would get to her before anything 190

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happened. Before his brother put his filthy hands on her, if he hadn't already. The thought fueled his fury and Darian dug his heels into Mira's side, launching him into a full gallop. Cheyenne, he thought fiercely. Hold on, lass. I'm comin'.

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CHAPTER 17 The sound of pounding hooves next to her ears woke Cheyenne with a jolt. She let out a startled scream when her eyes flew open and were greeted by swiftly moving ground only a few feet from her face. She jerked upward as she attempted to pull herself away from the seemingly impending danger of getting trampled under the horses galloping hooves. A firm hand on the back of her neck roughly shoved her back down, bringing her nose mere inches from the animals muscled legs. Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to fight back the tears of fright that moistened her eyelids. Her head throbbed as blood rushed back to her brain, and the horse's heavy footfalls made it thump all the more. Wracking her memory for an explanation, the only thing she could come up with was that Darian had been really angry with her when she'd refused him last night. Could he have arranged this? Had he decided she wasn't worth the bother and sold her to the highest bidder? No, that doesn't make sense. If he'd willingly given me to someone, they wouldn't have needed to sneak into my room, tie and gag me, and drop me out the window. Surely he didn't have anything to do with this. But if not him, then who? Cheyenne cringed as her captor called a halt to their grueling pace and his steed suddenly stopped. She struggled to remain calm as horrible images of torture and violation entered her mind. 192

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What's happening? Why did we stop? Surely there was a reason for her capture beyond death. Why would someone go through the trouble of kidnapping her just to have her killed? They could have murdered her where she slept. The man riding their horse dismounted and stood directly in front of her. Too afraid to look at him, Cheyenne kept her gaze downward. He curled his weather-roughened palm under her chin and forced her head up. She winced as pain shot through her neck and spine. Stiffling a cry, Cheyenne lifted her gaze to his face. She almost wished she were still unconscious when her terrified eyes met his toothless sneer. There was no mercy in the man's hard stare. "Mornin', lass. Sleep well?" Cheyenne whimpered against the dry cloth still stuffed in her mouth as new tears slipped from her lashes and ran down her cheeks. The man smiled, obviously amused by her despair. Then he barked orders to an unseen accomplice, released her chin, and calmly strode away. Feeling utterly defenseless, Cheyenne buried her face against the horse's side and began to sob. But her anguish quickly turned to alarm when she felt someone take hold of her hips from behind. She squealed with terror when they pulled her backward. Her mind reeled in a dizzying blur as her body was yanked from the horse's neck and she fell heavily to the ground. Nearly hyperventilating with fear, she lay in an unmoving heap, her arms and legs still bound. 193

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Blinking through the blinding rays of the early morning sun, she struggled to make out the figure that hovered above her. Cheyenne choked on the gag, realizing a shiver of panic as he kneeled and reached a hand out toward her. She jerked away from the searching fingers as they brushed lightly across her cheek. And she began to shake as grisly images of what he would likely do next built in her mind. Icy fear twisted around her heart as she fought to keep her fragile control. Stay calm. She swallowed the knot of repulsion that welled in her throat. Her eyes grew round when he reached for her again. And her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, fighting for air against the dirty cloth. "Shhh..." the man's voice soothed, pulling the foul tasting gag from her mouth. "Now there, ain't that better?" Cheyenne tentatively nodded her head. Then she glanced around, quickly taking note of her captors. There were three. She tried to remember if any of them had been in the bar last night, but there had been so many men. It was possible. One thing was for certain; none of them belonged to Darian's lot. His warriors were rogues, truly fearsome barbarians, but at least they were somewhat clean. These men were grubby, their armor was shoddy, and their personal hygiene left a lot to be desired. Her attention returned to the man who knelt before her, his insistent stare unwavering. Cheyenne stiffened as his eyes dropped from her face to her shoulders, and then moved 194

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down to her breasts, which heaved against the flimsy material of her ivory chemise. The intense look of longing in his bold gaze unnerved her. She felt herself shrinking away from him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Here it comes. She braced herself. "I wouldn't even think about it." The man who'd been riding with her stepped up behind the one crouching on the ground. "This one's off limits. 'Less ya think she'd be worth Lord Blood's wrath." As though trying to decide if he wanted to risk punishment, the man pondered her a moment longer and then snorted with aversion. "Ain't no wench worth that." Then he got up, strode over to his horse, and busied himself with adjusting the saddle. Cheyenne shook her head, trying to remain focused on the conversation between the two men. Her mind was swooning, as though she were on some crazy amusement park ride. And her consciousness kept careening sharply on its axis, threatening to check out on her. Lord Blood? Did he say that? Forcing herself to be alert, anger knotted her insides. How dare he do this to me! Is this his way of getting even with me for denying him last night? She was starting to wonder about Gavin's description of Darian's brother. So far, every time Chris's name was mentioned, it was followed by tense warnings. A wave of apprehension coursed through her insides. Things were becoming alarmingly clear. 195

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"When Darian—" she started, trying to sound braver than she felt. Her riding partner squatted down before her, fixing her with a cold stare. "When Lord Darian finally pulls 'imself out of his whore's arms an' discovers yer absence, we'll be halfway to our destination," he commented coldly, successfully cutting off her pathetic warning. Then he stood back up and turned to his comrades. "Let's get these harses watered an' get the Hades out of here. Someone's bound to notice 'er disappearance soon. I want to be as far away from Havenwort as possible." "I have to use the bathroom," Cheyenne protested defiantly. He looked at her as though he didn't quite grasp her meaning. "I need to relieve myself," she ground out tersely, heat rising in her cheeks. She gasped, jerking away from him when he pulled a large knife from his waistband and reached for her legs. "I can wait!" He grabbed hold of her ankle and slashed the sharp blade toward her. The harsh rope binding her feet fell away. Re-sheathing the knife, he took hold of her arms and yanked her to her feet. "Can ya walk?" His voice was flat and emotionless, as though he really didn't care if she could or not. Cheyenne nodded her head. But as she took the first step, she nearly collapsed back to the ground. Numb from dangling over the horse's side for so many hours, her feet and legs were practically useless. 196

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"God's teeth!" The man huffed with irritation as he caught her about the waist, preventing her from landing in a heap. Then he hefted her over his shoulder in one quick motion. With quick, determined strides, he swiftly carried her over to a small group of trees several yards away. When he reached the secluded area, he carefully lowered her back to the ground, sitting her down bottom first. Then he turned his back and walked a few feet away, apparently waiting for her to do her business. He almost seemed as embarrassed about the situation as she was. "Uh ... my hands are tied here. I can't exactly pull my gown out of the way. If you'd just release my wrists—" Although he restrained his anger, there was a distinct hardening of his eyes as he turned back around. Cheyenne could tell he was on the verge of exploding as he stomped back over to her. Instead of taking the knife back out and cutting the ropes around her wrists, he took hold of the hem of her slip and jerked it upward, exposing her from the waist down. Cheyenne nearly choked on her own shock as her hips and thighs were exposed to his raking gaze. She noticed he didn't pass up the opportunity to look freely upon the dark vee covering her womanhood before turning his head aside. "Hurry up." His voice was strangely hoarse. Too frightened by his coarse behavior to protest, she quickly relieved herself, urinating into the soft grass beneath her. Any other time, she'd have been mortified by what she'd done, but right now, she just wanted to get the necessity over with as quickly as possible. 197

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"Finished," she whispered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks once again as he slowly slid the chemise back over her legs. This time, when he helped her to her feet, she was able to stand and walk with his assistance. Neither one said a word as they approached their waiting steed. Although the others looked at them suspiciously, they didn't question the brief absence. He mounted the horse first, then leaned down and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her up to sit in front of him, sidesaddle. "I know yer nae properly dressed an' all, but you'll ride more comfortably if ya face forward," he offered gruffly, taking hold of her hips and turning her around. Cheyenne bit back a yelp as she envisioned herself falling off and landing on her face. But he held her steady, keeping her bottom from leaving the saddle. Sliding her ankle over the horse's neck, she now sat as he did, with one leg on either side. And she had to admit—it did feel a little safer than sitting the other way. As his groin pressed against her backside, a brief memory of Darian flashed in her mind. They had ridden the same way less than twenty-four hours ago. Closing her eyes, she once again felt the excitement he invoked in her whenever they touched. But this, she realized with instant clarification, was not Darian. This was someone who had kidnapped her at Chris's orders. Someone who thought so little of her, he wouldn't even allow her to use the bathroom without standing guard. 198

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Despair squeezed her heart as she wondered if she'd ever see her golden Hercules again. And if not, would it hurt him as much as it did her? There was one thing she was glad of—this man was so terrified of Lord Blood that he wouldn't chance touching her, or allowing the others to do so either. But then, what did she have to look forward to when she faced Chris herself? He was obviously angry about last night. His intent had been crystal clear. And apparently, he was one not to be denied. Much like his brother, but also so very different. Her vision clouded with sadness. Darian, please come save me. **** Cheyenne was nearly oblivious when they finally reached their destination. Her mind swam in and out of consciousness as she felt herself being lifted from the horse by a pair of strong hands. She didn't even protest as the man carried her to Chris's bedchamber. She was just glad he didn't sling her over his shoulder. Rather, he gently cradled her within the circle of his arms like a small child. "Have the cook bring 'er somethin' to eat. Quickly! An' she'll need a bath an' proper clothes. Hurry, mon! Before Lord Blood arrives an' skins my hide fer drivin' 'er so hard. He'll want 'er wide-awake when 'e gets here." Cheyenne didn't care about food. She just wanted sleep, and nearly nodded off as soon as he laid her down on the cushy bedcovers. "Dinna fall asleep yet, lassie." He forced her to sit up. "Ya need to eat somethin' first." 199

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Cheyenne tried to shove his persistent hands away so she could lie back down, but he held fast. "I don't want to eat," she whined, thinking how wonderful the bed had felt for that brief moment she'd had her head on the downy pillow. "Aye, ya do," he insisted, grasping her by the upper arms and sliding her up to lean against the headboard as a tray of food was brought through the door. Even though she was nearly overcome with exhaustion, the smell of freshly cooked meat permeated Cheyenne's nostrils, instantly arousing her brain and tempting her belly. Jerking free of the man's hands, she pushed herself the rest of the way up, until she was sitting without assistance. "Well, maybe I could eat, a little," she confessed, feeling her mouth water as the enticing aroma filled the air. Within minutes, she'd cleared the platter. If she hadn't been so tired, her ravenous appetite would have embarrassed her. With her hunger sated, Cheyenne's next concern was rest. Pushing the tray away, she scooted down in the bed and curled up into a ball on her side. Her head had barely hit the pillow before she'd drifted off into a pleasant, dreamless sleep. **** Satisfied that his duty was done, the man headed for the door. "Let 'er sleep a while, then get 'er cleaned an' dressed." He paused at the threshold. "An' fer God's sake, dinna tell Serena she's here. Let's try an' keep it quiet. Lord Blood can handle 'er when 'e returns. Which I expect'll be soon." 200

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The servant nodded and pulled a blanket over the sleeping girl's still frame. Then she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

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CHAPTER 18 Cheyenne was dead asleep when the chamber door burst open and an ear-piercing shriek ripped through her dream, jerking her awake. "What's the meanin' of this? Who are you? What're ya doin' here?" The woman's voice was as shrill and unpleasant as nails on a chalkboard. Cheyenne tried to sit up and face her opponent, but her wrists were bound and tied to bedpost. Struggling to roll onto her back, she craned her neck around toward the door. "I can't..." The most beautiful woman she'd ever seen was standing in the threshold, hands on hips in a stance of fury, and glaring daggers at her. She had thick auburn hair that fell around her shoulders in large, cascading curls, ginger eyes ringed with fire, and a voluptuous figure that would turn the head of a saint. Serena? But before she could ask, the woman stomped over to the bed and slapped her across the face. "Who do ya think ya are, ya wee whore?" The woman lifted her hand to strike her again. Cheyenne cried out in protest and pulled her arms down over her face as best she could. Why is this woman attacking me? She waited for the next stinging blow. But it didn't come. "Let's just see what's so appealin' about ya," the woman challenged, yanking the covers to the floor. 202

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She stormed up and down the side of the bed as she eyed Cheyenne with open aversion. Her blazing glare took in every inch of Cheyenne's petite frame and golden skin with the proficiency of a skilled assassin, planning her next mode of attack. "Please," Cheyenne begged, knowing she was all too vulnerable. "I don't even know where I am. If you'll only help me escape, I'll leave right away. I promise. No one else has to know." The woman stopped her ridiculous tantrum and glared at Cheyenne. Her eyes narrowed with distrust. "Right now, yer in Lord Blood's bed. In my place!" The woman pointed to her own chest, as though emphasizing her point. "As far as helpin' ya escape, I've no desire to invoke Chris's fury." She snorted, then crossed her arms over her chest like a pouting child. "He obviously had ya brought here fer a reason." The woman stomped up to the bedside, fists clenched, eyes blazing. "But let me tell ya somethin', ya bitch!" She grabbed a handful of Cheyenne's hair and yanked back her head. "Ya willna be here long. I'll make sure of that." Then she stormed out the door, slamming it closed behind her. Cheyenne seethed with anger. She had endured the woman's abuse in helpless silence. Other than her smarting cheek, wounded pride, and a few less hairs, she really hadn't suffered much harm. "You're lucky my hands were tied," she muttered to the empty room, thinking how she'd have liked to gotten in a few 203

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shots of her own. Nevertheless, she was relieved when the irate witch finally left. Infuriated by the woman's blatant assault, Cheyenne stared at the chamber door with disbelief. If the idiot had simply untied her, she'd have gladly snuck out and left Lord Blood and his entire castle to her disposal. She certainly had no use for Chris, his bed, or anything else he had to offer. Rolling her eyes with disgust, she turned her attention to her dismal surroundings. The bed she was so callously tied to was a massive fourposter piece that appeared hand-carved from dark mahogany wood. Its girth was expansive, easily sleeping three adults with room to spare. A flush crept along her cheeks as she wondered if perhaps that was the intent. The posts, as thick as trees and nearly reaching the ceiling, were etched with swirling shapes and meticulous designs. They towered above her like formidable Greek pillars, her own silent guardians. Intimidated, Cheyenne shriveled beneath their looming shadows. In contrast to the royal hue in the room at the tavern, shades of black, gray, and crimson permeated every foot of Chris's chamber, as if only the devil himself would dare venture to sleep within the confines of such a dreary place. Large murals painstakingly stitched with mythical creatures and graphic scenes of death, lust, and destruction lined the stony walls like an art exhibition. Cheyenne shuddered, realizing she was very likely within the boundaries of hell itself. 204

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She tugged downward against the ropes holding her arms, trying to loosen them, but only succeeded in grinding them against her badly chafed wrists. With a dejected sigh, she resigned herself to waiting. Surely someone else will come soon. She just prayed it wasn't Chris. She at least wanted to put up a fair fight against whatever he intended to do to her. And right now, nothing about her situation was fair. With a shiver of vivid recollection, she remembered that his last suggestion had been to accompany her upstairs. She was sure it hadn't been for a handshake goodnight. No, his intent had been obvious. As she construed his evident plan, Cheyenne began to panic. She frantically yanked against her bindings, not caring that the ropes cut her wrists or that they'd started to bleed. Her only thoughts were of escape. Succeeding in working herself into a frenzy, she almost fainted with alarm when the door creaked open. Heart pounding, Cheyenne held her breath and waited for the inevitable. When an elderly woman carrying what appeared to be bathing supplies quietly crept in, she nearly laughed at her own hysterics and exhaled with relief. She watched in anxious silence as numerous servants lugging wooden buckets of steaming water filed in. Moving in unison, much like an army marching in cadence, they went to a large, marble tub across the room and emptied their pails. Then they mutely filed out. Not a single one glanced in her direction, as though the sight of a half205

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naked woman bound to their master's bed was a common sight. The realization was disturbing. The older woman remained. Her tired, gray eyes were tender as they fell upon her. She stared at Cheyenne in silence, her expression sad and riddled with pity. Then she sighed and hobbled toward the bed. "Two men guard the door," she announced softly. "I'll untie yer hands, but dinna try to run." Cheyenne nodded, grateful for the release when the harsh ropes binding her wrists fell away. "Thank you." She rubbed her raw skin. A tender smile touched the elderly face. "Come, lass. We must get ya cleaned up before Lord Blood arrives. Into the tub with ya." Realizing it was futile to protest, Cheyenne slowly pushed herself up from the bed and approached the steaming pool. Unlike the small metal tub at the tavern, this was a full-sized bath, big enough for two. It was lined with smooth black stones that reflected though the water, making the surface shine like glass and giving it the illusion of a bottomless pit. Cheyenne couldn't help but wonder if it might swallow her whole. Faced with her inevitable circumstances, she almost welcomed the idea. She slipped the dirty chemise from her shoulders and let it slide down her body into a heap around her feet. Then froze as a startled gasp echoed though the air. Cheyenne groaned. Aw, not that again.

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Before she could turn around, the woman had crossed the room and was pointing a twisted finger toward her lower back. "How'd ya get that?" Her aged eyes were round with shock and an edge of panic sharpened her voice. Cheyenne huffed with annoyance and rolled her eyes. What is it with these people, haven't they ever seen a tattoo? "I got it back home. It's nothing. Really." "'Tis more than naught, lass. 'Tis the prophesied mark of the chosen one. The one who'll bear a great leader. A powerful ruler shall spring forth from yer loins to unify the warrin' nations of the Andreas an' Ramekah Clans. Men will follow an' women will hail the mercy of the prophesied child. But..." "But, what?" Cheyenne asked tersely, horrified by the old woman's words. A tremor of panic had started in the pit of her stomach and now worked its way to the back of her throat. Surely she has the wrong person. "But the lass was said to come from—" "Earth?" Cheyenne took an unsteady step away. The old woman stared at her in speechless wonder. "Can it be?" Then, as though filled with sudden distress, the woman rushed forward and grabbed Cheyenne's hand. "The babe's father shall determine its path," she declared, her tone once again laced with alarm. "I ... don't understand," Cheyenne muttered, unable to believe this woman expected her to participate in such a 207

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ridiculous scheme. She tried to pull away, but the woman held fast. "Think, lassie," she hissed. "The babe's father must be merciful an' honest, fer it'll grow to be like him." Cheyenne yanked free and began backing away. She shook her head with vehemence. "No. No you're wrong. I can't be this ... There won't be anything springing from these loins. Uh uh. No way. I've never even—" As the back of her knees bumped the side of the tub, Cheyenne sunk down onto the marbled edge. "This can't be," she choked, her voice breaking with grief. "It's just a tattoo, nothing more." The woman's gaze filled with sympathy. "Who else has seen it?" "Only Darian and a few others," Cheyenne replied in a daze. She looked up at the old woman, pleading with her eyes. "If I'd known what it was, I never would have..." She stopped herself, realizing there was no way she could have known. Was it meant to be there? Cheyenne trembled as the likelihood sunk in. It has to be. Something clicked in her mind, a prospect that nearly drove her to her knees. Is this the only reason Darian wanted me? To sire this supposed great leader? The probability was so heart-wrenching it caused physical pain. Feeling nauseated, Cheyenne clenched her gut. "I'm going to be sick," she warned, clamping a hand over her mouth. Sensing the impending expulsion of her previous meal, Cheyenne quickly rushed over to what appeared to be a 208

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washbasin and vomited into the porcelain bowl. When she'd finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her mind reeled with thoughts of prophecies, babies, and Darian. The harder she tried to deny the truth, the more it persisted. She was scared, confused, angry; and her heart was a hollow void within her chest. It was too much to bear. Tears blinded her vision as she stared at the chamber door, wondering if there was any possibility of escape. Maybe she could surprise the guards, rush past them and ... But she was trapped and she knew it. With a despondent sigh, she trudged back to the tub. "I'm a little overwhelmed," she whispered, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. "Come, lass. Let Marge clean ya up. You'll feel better," the old woman coaxed, guiding Cheyenne into the steaming water. "Nothing could make me feel better." Her voice was resigned as she slid down in the water until she was submerged to her chin. As the heat enveloped her body, Cheyenne leaned back and closed her eyes. What am I going to do? I can't sleep with someone just to get pregnant and fulfill this so called prophecy. The idea went against every ethical grain in her body. Besides, she'd waited too long for the right man and had too much pride to throw herself to the highest bidder. And didn't she have some say in this? She was more than just a baby factory; she'd be the mother for God's sake! 209

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Cheyenne mentally shook her head. What am I thinking? There isn't going to be any baby. And I'm not this prophecy girl! This was all a mistake. She'd find a way out of it, one way or another. A heavy silence blanketed the room while the woman scrubbed her hair. Cheyenne knew she had to escape before Chris got there. The alternative was just ... unacceptable. "Marge?" She tried to look as piteous as possible. "I don't want to be the chosen one. Can't we pretend you didn't see the mark and I slip out of here?" Marge sighed. "Ya poor lass. I wish it were that easy." Then she sadly shook her head. "If Chris sires the bairn..." A shudder wracked the woman's frail frame. "May the gods help us, fer we're surely doomed." Too numb to reply, Cheyenne merely stared at her. Marge helped her out of the tub and dried her off. Then she guided her over to the dressing table and proceeded to comb her hair until it was knot free. Next, she scrubbed her skin with fragrant oil, making it smell like honeysuckle and glow with a brilliant, gold hue. She'd just slipped a clean chemise over Cheyenne's head and was reaching for a dress when the door to the bedchamber burst open and Chris barged through. "Leave us!" he bellowed, striding purposely toward them. Cheyenne felt all the color drain from her face. Letting out a terrified scream, she jumped up from her seat, ran to the back of the massive room, and slipped behind a low-back couch piled with a multitude of ruby pillows. Pressing her 210

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backside against the wall, she swallowed a sob and turned pleading eyes to Marge. "M'Lord!" Marge grabbed Chris's arm as he brushed by. "Ya dinna ken what yer—" Chris shrugged off her restraining hand and snorted indignantly. "Out with ya!" he roared, obviously irritated that she'd remained after he'd already dismissed her. When Marge failed to budge, he lifted a heavy fist as though to strike her. "What's gotten into ya, woman? I said get out!" Cheyenne suddenly felt compelled to intercede. "Stop! Please, don't hit her." Chris was openly amused. A flash of humor briefly crossed his harsh features, and one of his dark brows rose with surprise. "Well, well. The defiance returns." "Out!" he barked again to Marge. When she finally slipped from the room, he turned his attention back to Cheyenne. "I nearly killed my harse tryin' to get here." He charged forward. Cheyenne pointed a shaking finger at his advancing frame. "You stay away from me!" As though finding humor in her measly display of rebellion, Chris threw back his head and roared with laughter. When he finally regained his composure, he fixed her with a heated stare. "Tell me, love. How was yer nap? Did ya dream about me? Yearn fer my touch? Fer I've thought of naught but you." When he was nearly upon her, Cheyenne let out a shriek of terror, launched an armful of pillows at his head, and darted 211

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from behind the sofa. Although she knew the attempt was useless, she made a break for the door. There was no way in hell, his or hers, she'd give in gracefully. Seemingly delighted by her insolence, Chris let out an thrilled growl and started after her. Quickly overtaking her fleeting figure, he grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then he hefted her struggling form up the air as though she were nothing more than a weightless doll. "Put me down!" Cheyenne frantically kicked her feet and pushed against his thick forearms with her palms. He ignored her protests and carried her wildly flailing body over to his enormous bed. Then he tossed her, unceremoniously, onto the surface. Cheyenne let out a cry of surprise as she flopped onto the velvety bedclothes. Chris stepped back and waited for her to make another attempt, laughing with genuine pleasure when she sprang up almost instantly and bolted once again. The outcome was the same. But Cheyenne stubbornly refused to give in, not as long as she had strength left. She'd rather drop dead first. So she jumped up repeatedly, determined to keep trying. She cried out with frustration as she felt his arms ensnare her waist mere inches from reaching her goal. Each time, it seemed as though she got a little closer to the door. It was like he was toying with her, letting her think she might actually succeed only to be drug back to his bed and flung down once again with malicious disregard. 212

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Catching her with little to no difficulty every time she bolted, Chris quickly tired of their game. His laughter ceased and his green eyes turned dangerous. "No more playin' around," he growled, snatching her about the waist and hauling her back to the bed as before. Leaping on top of her, he pinned her arms above her head and held her in place with his weight. "Tell me, love, do ya fight like this fer Darian?" Cheyenne struggled against him, bucking her hips and kicking her legs. "He's twice the man you are," she spat with venom. "I welcome his touch, but never yours. Never!" Chris's eyes narrowed into thin slits and his lips curled back into a vicious snarl. She could feel the power building in his arms as they thickened, growing taut with fury. Ever so slowly, he rose up above her, his body becoming stiff and ramrod straight. An angry muscle worked across his jaw as he clenched his teeth with fury. Before she could react, the back of his hand came crashing down against her cheek. Her head snapped to the side and a cry was torn from her lips as crystalline sparklers exploded in her brain. For a fleeting moment, Cheyenne thought she might just faint. Obviously pleased by her pained shriek, Chris leaned forward, bringing his mouth mere inches from her ear. "We shall see." Cheyenne's mind swam as unconsciousness threatened to pull her out of the gruesome ordeal. Part of her wanted to drift away and not be aware of the violation that was about to 213

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occur. But she refused to give in that easily. Her pride wouldn't allow it. The sound of tearing fabric hurtled her back to reality as he ripped her chemise from neck to hem. Then he yanked both sides apart, exposing her naked body to his eager gaze. Chris's eyes quickly took in every inch of her. "Very nice," he purred, running an appreciative finger along the side of her breast. "Such a wee bonnie lass." His voice was thick and strangely sensual, his words heavy with desire. Ripples of awareness coursed through her veins, bringing with them an unwelcome hint of anticipation. As he purposely ground his hardened shaft against her inner thigh, a disturbing shudder heated her insides, making them quiver with mixed emotions of disgust and expectation. Appalled by her body's unsettling reaction, Cheyenne's face flushed with humiliation. Angry tears brimmed her eyes as she stared up at the man above her. "No," she choked softly, willing the unwanted sensations to go away. "This isn't right." How could this violation bring forth any amount of pleasure? Within a matter of moments, he'd have what he wanted, and she'd be left with nothing to offer Darian. Sadly, she wondered if he'd even want her after Chris sullied her purity. Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from her lashes. Fighting him wasn't working. Perhaps she could appeal to some merciful thread in his cruel soul, if he even had one. 214

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"Please, Chris. Don't do this. I'm begging you." Her small voice was weak and tremulous. He grinned down at her, shaking his head. "Nay, love. Before this day is over, you'll be beggin' fer more." His taunting words burned her pride. Cheyenne's anguish burst into a searing blaze of outrage. Yanking her arm free of his grasp, she swung her fist, soundly connecting with his jaw. The blow was surprisingly firm and sent him reeling backward in shock. Seeing another possibility for escape, she quickly rolled off the bed and shot for the door. But Chris's dazed stupor was short-lived. He intercepted her just as her fingertips brushed the handle. "Nae so fast, love," he chided, wrapping his arms around hers and pulling her backside against him. "I s'pose we're even now." His mouth moved against her lobe. "Ya've got a solid punch, fer such a bonnie wee thin'. I like that." Cheyenne shuddered as his warm breath caressed her ear. Then his hand moved down from her waist to the juncture of her thighs. "No!" She raked both his arms with her nails, digging in as deeply as she could before he slung her to the floor. She landed on her right hip and side with a bruising jar. "Bitch!" Chris held his bleeding arms out before him, briefly inspecting his wounds. When he saw the damage, he let out a furious bellow. "Yer gonna pay fer that!" Then he charged at her. 215

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Cheyenne screamed and tried to scramble to her feet, but he was upon her before she'd scarcely made it off the floor. Grabbing her by the hair, he dragged her struggling form back to his bed. "Let's have a closer look at this mysterious mark ya have." He shoved her, face down, onto the covers and held her with a heavy palm between her shoulder blades while he leisurely inspected her tattoo. "Hmm..." Cheyenne felt her stomach plummet to her knees as he ran a thick finger across her lower spine. Please don't let him know what it is. Please, God. But his excited gasp evaporated her tiny sliver of hope into fumes of nothingness. He knew exactly what it was. And more likely than not, what it meant. With lightning fast speed, he flipped her over to face him. Cheyenne's head spun in a dizzying blur and she let out a small yelp as she felt her body being whipped over like a turning page. His eyes sparkled with a savage fire and she found herself shrinking away, pressing herself back against the comforter and wishing she could melt into the bedclothes to escape the wickedness in his glare. As though suddenly enraged, Chris's eyebrows drew together in an affronted frown and his lips twisted into a stiff threat. Holding her wrists securely on either side of her face, he leaned down until his mouth hovered above hers. "Has 'e?" Cheyenne was confused. "I don't know what—" Angered by her diffidence, Chris backhanded her again. "Has Darian taken yer maidenhead?" 216

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She bit back a sob as pain shot through her cheek and warm fluid trickled from the corner of her mouth. Shocked by his brutality, she blankly stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "N ... n ... no," she stammered. Chris's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Dinna play coy with me, lassie. I'll know if ya speak the truth." Her body stiffened in shock. Momentarily abashed, her cheeks burned with mortification. But her embarrassment slowly melted into raw anger as he scowled at her with a sardonic expression that sent her temper soaring. How dare he question who I've slept with—never mind the fact there hasn't been anyone—that isn't any of his business! She was infuriated by his crude interrogation. "If you're not going to believe me, then why bother asking?" She clenched her teeth with wavering control. "I told you he hasn't." Chris suddenly grinned, losing all trace of his former animosity. "Well then, how many bairns shall we have? I'd say at least three or four, just to make sure we get the right one." Cheyenne's eyes widened with disbelief. A dull ache of foreboding throbbed through her insides. He must be a complete lunatic. She had no intention of giving him any babies! His eager mouth came down over hers for a brutal kiss, moving with a demanding mastery that devoured her softness. After releasing one of her wrists, his hand slipped down to fondle her breast. But there was no gentleness in the way his fingers curled around the tender globe, and his cruel 217

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squeezing and kneading elicited a pained cry of protest from her bruised lips. Cheyenne squirmed beneath his arduous assault. She cursed and spat at him, calling him every vile name she could think of in both his language and hers. But it was to no avail, her defiance only served to heighten his arousal. It seemed the more she fought, the more excited he became. A scream tore from her lips and her body jerked upward, nearly coming off the bed, when his mouth closed over one nipple and bit down. Her head swam with alarm as pain threatened to pull her out of awareness. This is not how my first time is supposed to be! Not like this! Cheyenne was paralyzed with terror, her fear like a steel weight as his hand slid down her abdomen to the swell of her hips. When his palm cupped the sensitive vee between her thighs and his finger probed her opening, her defiance crumbled into despair. Reality crashed over her like giant tidal waves, drowning her with torrential dread. Feeling an end to her boldness, she grew limp and complacent. She wasn't sure what hurt the most, the fact Darian wouldn't save her, or the possibility he might not care.

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CHAPTER 19 Marge paced the corridor with growing unease. She nervously wrung her hands as the girl's screams drifted through the chamber door. Even though she'd been Chris's nursemaid since the time of his birth, and loved him as she would her own son, she couldn't deny the fact he was a cruel man. He can't sire this bairn! There's too much at stake. Besides, there are rules, guidelines. The prophecy has to be followed with precision. This is all wrong! "Stop frettin', ol' woman," Brine snapped, seemingly annoyed by her pacing. His gray eyes darkened to an irritated charcoal. "'Tis a duty all women must endure." Marge looked at him through troubled eyes. "Yer a foolish soul. 'Tis the destruction of all hope that takes place in there." She pointed a shaking finger toward the door. Brine shook his head in confusion. "Bah! Yer crazy, ol' woman. Be gone with ya!" He placed a hand over the hilt of his sword in warning. Marge was about to take her leave when a war cry from outside the castle jolted her pulse. Rushing down the corridor as fast as her feeble legs would go, she reached a window just in time to see Darian and his entire gang storm the courtyard. Bless the gods! **** 219

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Shoving the old woman aside, Brine threw open the pane. He leaned out the sill and uttered a long stream of curses as he instantly recognized their attacker. Then he ran back to Chris's chamber and barged through door without bothering to knock. "Sorry fer the intrusion, m'Lord." He kept his eyes cast toward the floor as he hurriedly explained. "But yer brother has arrived an' has entered the courtyard!" "Idiots!" Chris roared with fury as he pushed himself up from the bed. Unsheathing his sword, Lord Blood strode purposely toward him. "How did my brother get here so quickly?" Brine stood his ground, waiting for his Lord to deal him a deathblow with the sharp edge of his blade. He'd failed him. He knew this. It was a just punishment. **** But Chris apparently had more important matters to contend with besides killing his cowering armsman. Turning his attention back to Cheyenne, "Dinna even think about gettin' away," he warned, pointing a thick finger in her direction. "We'll continue once I've dispose of my brother." Albeit the trembling of her limbs and terror in her heart, Cheyenne gathered the blankets up to her chin and glared at him with stubborn mutiny. The diversion had temporarily spared her, but the determined spark in his green eyes told her his threat was valid. He would return and complete his violation as soon as possible. 220

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When Chris turned away, a pained sob caught in her throat as the possibility that Darian might get killed loomed before her. There's no way he can get to me. Surely he's outnumbered. "Brine! You stay here an' make sure she doesn't escape." Chris pointed to his warrior. "Yer life depends on it." There was no mistaking the threat in his words. Brine nodded. "Darian's nae gonna get 'er back! She's too valuable. I will sire the prophesied bairn. An' along with my unborn son, I'll take doon Lord Ramekah an' become the most powerful ruler of Zandar! But my brother will be the first to fall by my own hand!" Brine lifted his sword in agreement. "Aye! An' I shall gladly follow ya, m'Lord!" Chris stormed out the door, barking orders as he went and calling for a gathering of his guards. Cheyenne clenched the bedsheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. Darian! She discreetly studied her watchdog, trying to determine if perhaps she might be able to escape. He was a tall man, with a lean frame, trim arms, and long, sinewy legs. Although far from Darian's or Chris's build in size, he looked strong, athletic; and unfortunately, prepared. His cold gray eyes watched her nonstop, his calculating and unwavering gaze not faltering for one moment. His stringy brown hair was lifeless—no doubt untouched by comb or soap. And it hung around his shoulders in repulsive, greasy locks. He stood in readiness, legs slightly spread, arms 221

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crossed over his chest, back rigid and straight. His expression was hard, unmerciful. And the darkness of his gunmetal stare was unnerving. This man frightened her. Her instinct warned he was dangerous, more so than any others she'd met thus far, even Chris. Unable to withstand the intimidation of his unwavering glare, Cheyenne turned away, trying to focus her attention on the riot outside. She found the suspense nearly unbearable as the sound of fighting and possibly dying men drifted to her ears. Each blood-curdling scream made her skin crawl. She couldn't help but wonder if one of those foreboding shrieks belonged to Darian. Sword clashing against sword, muscle fighting against muscle—it sounded as though Armageddon were occurring on the ground below. She felt compelled to rush to the window, but found herself unable to move, lest what she see cause further grief. Nearly at wits end, her heart jolted when everything suddenly stopped. No more screams of pain or threatening war cries. No more clanging metal. Just silence. The stillness was disturbing, like the calm before a storm. Something's happened. Feeling a surge of panic, she turned frightened eyes upon her lingering guard, who also seemed unnerved by the abrupt peace. As though trying to reassure himself, he weakly grinned. "See, Lord Blood has disposed of the intrudin' dogs. Darian is either dead or sufferin' a slow an' agonizin' end." 222

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Cheyenne shook her head with vehemence. "No! I don't believe you! Surely he wouldn't kill his own brother. Not over me. Not—" Brine's laugh was cruel. "Has naught to do with you, lassie." He sneered at her, apparently amused by her suggestion. "'Tis honor that wields the sword. Yer merely a small prize. One soon to be discarded after Lord Blood has had his fill." His thin lips curled into a wicked smile. "An' I'll be next in line when he's done." Cheyenne was just about to tell the patronizing man-atarms that neither he nor Chris would be getting their fill of anything from her when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention. Both she and Brine stared at the closed door with mixed feelings of fear and apprehension. Suddenly, the door burst open and Gavin rushed in. Forgetting about the sour-faced guard and the fact that she didn't have on a stitch of clothing, Cheyenne leapt from the bed and rushed toward him with outstretched arms. Even though she'd hoped for Darian, Gavin would suffice for now. No sooner had her bare feet touched the carpeted floor than Brine snatched her by the arm, yanking her back. "Nae so fast, lassie," he hissed, holding onto her with a steely grasp. He twisted her wrist behind her back and whipped out a knife from his waistband. Then he placed the blade against her throat. "Where's Lord Blood?" Cheyenne cried out as pain shot through her shoulder. Inhaling sharply when she felt the cold steel press against her 223

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neck, she tried to remain calm. Feeling the edge pierce the top layer of skin, she bit down on her lower lip, trying to stunt the cry of fear that worked its way up from her belly and lodged in her throat. A small whimper drifted through the air. Gavin ignored Brine's question and took a step toward them. "Let 'er go!" His hand went to the hilt of his sword. Brine pressed the blade harder, drawing a trickle of blood and an alarmed yelp from Cheyenne. "I'm warnin' ya, mon. If ya come any closer, I'll take 'er head off. I'm only gonna ask once more, where's Chris?" Gavin instantly stopped his advance as he heard Cheyenne's cry of panic. His expression turned helpless. "Auria! Auria!" Releasing his sword, he held his hands out before him in a gesture of submission. "Just dinna hurt 'er, or Darian will have my hide. He's in the infirmary." "Alive?" There was a slight quiver in Brine's voice and Cheyenne noticed his hand had started to shake as well. "Barely, but aye, he's alive," Gavin replied. "Both he an' Darian have sustained ... serious wounds. They've called a temporary truce." Brine snorted. "I dinna believe ya! Lord Blood would ne'er back—" Just then, Thor and several of Darian's men came rushing in the room behind Gavin. "We need to hurry this up, mon," Thor exclaimed. "Darian's hurt bad." "Our Lord needs ya, Gavin," another chimed, his voice grave. "Leave the lass an' go." 224

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But Gavin ignored the panicking guards. "Brine..." His voice was laced with warning. "Let 'er go." Darian's warriors fixed Brine with glares of impatience. It was obvious his defiance wouldn't be tolerated much longer. Apparently, no female was worth their Lord's life, no matter how bonnie they thought she was. Of course—with the exception of Gavin, who seemingly had his suspicions—none of them had any idea just how important she truly was. And at that moment, Cheyenne wasn't sure if she was grateful for that or not. Seemingly knowing he was sorely outnumbered, Brine dropped the knife. "Take 'er," he spat. "I'm a dead mon either way." It was true, if Darian's men didn't kill him, Lord Blood surely would. Just from what she'd learned of Chris's temper, Cheyenne knew failure to carry out his expectations would likely bring Brine a slow and unmerciful death. But sparing her might be his only chance for clemency, from both of them. Unsheathing his sword, Gavin purposely strode toward him. "I've no intention of lettin' Chris rob me of my greatest desire. I've waited a long time to do this. I'll gladly rid Zandar of yer filth." Brine shoved Cheyenne toward the bed. "Then let's get it over with." Cheyenne was momentarily dazed as she felt herself falling. Her hands flailed wildly out before her in an attempt to grasp the thick bedpost as her legs buckled and her knees hit the plush carpet. She looked as though she clung to a 225

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pillar of life; her arms wound tightly around the sturdy wood frame, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut, as she gratefully hugged her body to the inanimate savior. Mentally reassuring herself she was all right, she coaxed her arms into releasing their vice-like grip from the post. Heart racing, limbs trembling, she slowly pulled herself up off the floor. Although she still held onto the bed for support, she proudly squared her shoulders and raised her chin as she glared repugnance at Brine. Asshole! A warm trickle of sticky moisture slid down her neck. With shaking fingers, she touched the side of her throat, letting out a sigh of relief when she felt the shallow laceration left by Brine's cruel blade. It's not deep. Just a scratch. With the danger to her life over, the fact that he'd actually threatened to cut her head off infuriated her. She wanted to take that knife and slice a chunk out of his hide, see how he liked it. She wanted to... Seeing the murderous glare in Gavin's eyes as he raised his sword, "Wait!" she yelled, just as he was about to bring the edge down upon Brine's head. Even though she'd like nothing more than to choke the life out of Chris's guard with her bare hands, she couldn't stand to watch him be butchered for following orders. Mustering up all the courage she could, she smoothly walked toward them. "I can't believe you would have actually cut my throat!" Cheyenne tried to sound as enraged as she 226

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could and mask the pity she felt for Brine as she read the acceptance of death in his dull, gray eyes. Stopping just a few inches in front of him, Cheyenne cocked her arm back and slapped him across the face. Although the blow snapped his head to the side, his stance didn't waver. An angry red print instantly rose on his cheek. It was the only evidence that she'd just dealt him her best shot. The realization unnerved her. Suddenly, she felt small and insignificant. Catching the brief but undeniable look of hatred in his leveling stare as he reached up and touched his smarting skin, she knew without a doubt he'd retaliate if given the chance. The malevolence in Brine's cold glare turned her insides frigid with fear. At that moment, she saw a man completely without mercy or regard for any life, let alone hers. Even though Chris's attack had been malicious and vile, the wickedness in this man's soul terrified her to the core. Determined not to let him intimidate her, she recklessly pressed on. "That's for cutting me, you bastard. You're lucky I don't take that knife and remove your ... thingy," she proclaimed, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she indicated his groin. "I'm sure Gavin would hold you down," she added with a haughty note. Her voice was amazingly calm and more convincing than she'd thought possible. Although her expression was bold, her knees were knocking so hard she was surprised she didn't collapse at his feet like a cowering dog. **** 227

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Gavin nearly burst out laughing. The shocked look on Brine's face was almost more gratifying than killing him would be. Such brutality was quite unbecoming for a lady, but also very amusing. His delight, however, quickly dissipated as hatred darkened his soul. A vicious scowl replaced his smile as he raised his sword with the intent to kill. But a tiny hand on his forearm halted his strike. He looked down into a pair of pleading violet eyes and suddenly felt guilty for what he was about to do. At first, Gavin wanted to ignore her. He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass. Brine was responsible for the brutal rape and death of his baby sister. He deserves to die, he reminded himself. Shrugging her hand away, he lifted the sword again. "Gavin," she implored in a soft voice. With a frustrated huff, Gavin begrudgingly dropped the blade to his waist. I can't do it. I'll be damned, but I just can't do it. Nae in front of her. Besides, they were all under armistice; further bloodshed was forbidden. "Tie 'im up. Beat the Hades out of 'im. I dinna care what ya do, just keep 'im out of the infirmary. 'Tis yer lucky day, ya worthless mongrel. A lass has saved yer hide." He spat at Brine's dusty boots, then fixed him with a glare that could penetrate granite. Lowering his voice to a mere whisper, "But have no doubt, I'll get my revenge fer what ya did to Kira," he declared. The words were a hate-filled pledge. 228

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When Cheyenne turned questioning eyes upon him, he slowly shook his head, indicating he didn't wish to discuss it. He was grateful when she obliged, letting the painful subject go without further interrogation. She had a funny way of bearing the darkest secrets of his soul, and he just wasn't in the mood for it right now. **** When Gavin grabbed a blanket off the bed and thrust it toward her, Cheyenne quickly snatched it. Then she tied it around her breasts, much like a bath towel, and prayed it wouldn't slip. Not that it mattered anymore. She'd just pranced around naked in front of a room full of men for the last ten minutes! Why be modest now? she scoffed, feeling her cheeks burn with mortification. With a sour look of disappointment marring his handsome features, Gavin took her by the elbow and led her out of the bedchamber. His step faltered only briefly when she heard Brine's sadistic comment as they crossed the threshold. "Just in case yer wonderin', she was real soft. Sweet as wine. Screamed fer ya 'til the end." Although his entire body stiffened in anger, Gavin continued out the door without gracing Brine with so much as a backward glance. "One day, you will suffer," he said softly. "I'll make sure of it." Two of Darian's armsmen waited in the hall. "You'll be safe with them, Gavin muttered, indicating the guards. "I have to go to Darian. His injuries are—" 229

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Cheyenne grabbed his arm. "I can help. Take me with you." Gavin pondered her a moment, a doubtful expression knitting his brows. "Please," she begged. "I can help." **** With a dejected sigh, Gavin nodded. Then took hold of Cheyenne's arm once again and escorted her down the hall toward what he prayed wasn't Darian's death chamber. He didn't know what she thought she could do to help, but at this point, he was willing to try anything.

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CHAPTER 20 Gavin led her down the long corridor to the top of a narrow stairwell. They descended the steps in silence, came to another floor, then traveled a lengthy walkway until they finally stopped outside an enormous wooden door. Although many of Chris's guards lined the walls and stood outside the infirmary, none questioned the two as they entered. When Cheyenne saw Darian's motionless frame sprawled out on the tiny cot, she cried out in shock. Chris lay on another bed beside him. Neither one moved or seemed to be breathing. Their bodies looked unnaturally still. Making a quick assessment, she tried to determine who needed medical attention first. Cheyenne wanted to scream with frustration, both were in danger of expiring if she didn't intercede, and fast. But how could she treat them at the same time? Chris's servants were awkwardly trying to clean and dress the injuries, but their efforts were nearly useless. Both men were bleeding profusely, quickly saturating the dirty cloths stuffed in their gaping wounds. Cheyenne watched with horror as she realized none of them knew what they were doing. If both men didn't die from blood loss, they'd surely perish from infection. "Isn't there anyone here who knows about proper wound care?" Her voice was shrill as she shoved the inept hands away from Chris's and Darian's seemingly lifeless bodies. 231

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When no one volunteered their assistance, Cheyenne took charge. "Gavin, I need sterile water and clean towels." He looked at her blankly before mouthing, "Sterile?" "Boil it!" she screeched, feeling her patience beginning to snap. She anxiously tugged at the top edge of her blanket, trying to tuck it between her breasts so she could begin work immediately. But when the bulky garment refused to cooperate and slipped free, she let it fall, unheeded, to the floor. Cheyenne ignored the shocked gasps of the others. "I need some clothes! A long shirt, a gown, anything! Now!" She wasn't sure who, but someone rushed from the room to get it for her. She listed off some other basic necessities, barely noticing as servants frantically dashed about the room, trying to collect the items she desired. Within moments, Cheyenne had a plain, muslin gown—which she dared not ponder to whom it belonged—for herself, and a large assortment of primitive medical supplies. Shaking her head at the archaic equipment, she closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer. Please, God. I need some help here. First, she went to Darian. He had a large, misshapen gash along the left side of his lower abdomen. She pulled up his shirt, groaning inwardly when she saw the cut extended down into his groin. Quickly unlacing his pants, she eased them down over his hips, exposing his thighs. Trying to disregard her embarrassment, Cheyenne looked freely upon his nakedness. She sighed with relief. The 232

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laceration didn't quite reach his vital organ. It was still intact. But whoever inflicted his wound obviously had intentions of eliminating his ability to father children. No doubt his brother is to blame for this! She cast Chris an irritated scowl. Gently parting the jagged edges of flesh, she looked to see if any of the internal organs had been punctured. Finding nothing to cause alarm, Cheyenne took some clean cloths and proceeded to hold pressure to a stubborn bleed in the bend of his groin. When Gavin returned with a large pot of steaming water, Cheyenne immediately called him over to assist. "I want you to hold this right here." She carefully placed the palm of his hand over the oozing spot. "Press hard until I come back to see if it's stopped. I need to check Chris." If Gavin was shocked by her intent to help Darian's brother even after his attack, he didn't show it. "Aye." Then he nodded his head, indicating he had it under control. Cheyenne had just leaned over the wound on the outer aspect of Chris's right leg when she heard a piercing scream from behind. She nearly jumped out of her skin as the highpitched wail shot through her body and grated her nerves. Groaning inwardly, she turned to face the hysterical woman who'd attacked her before. "What have ya done to 'im?" The woman rushed over to Chris's bed. When she saw blood stained his clothes from waist to knee and continued to flow from a gash in his leg at an alarmingly steady stream, she let out another ear-piercing keen. 233

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"Get away!" she ordered, as though expecting Cheyenne to move at once. When she didn't budge, the woman's eyes darted from one guard to another. "She's tryin' to kill 'im, ya fools!" Cheyenne decided she'd had just about enough of the hysterics. "Look, lady," she ground through clenched teeth. "I don't know who you are, and I really don't care. Do you see that wound?" Cheyenne pointed to the flow of crimson fluid pouring from Chris's outer thigh. "That looks like a femoral laceration. This man is going to die very quickly if you don't get out of my way and let me help him." Trying to regain control of her racing emotions, Cheyenne took a steadying breath before continuing. "Now, if you want to help, grab some of those towels and start soaking up blood. I need to see exactly where it's coming from." When Cheyenne reached for the lacing on Chris's pants, the woman shrieked again and slapped her hands away. "Dinna touch 'im! An' take off my—" The threat was instantly cut off as Cheyenne squarely planted her fist in the woman's dainty little nose. "Get her the hell out of here and keep her out of my sight!" Satisfied the matter was settled, Cheyenne turned her attention back to her patient who was seriously in danger of extinction. Completely disregarding the irritating woman who now lay in a moaning heap at her feet, she leaned over Chris's leg once more. "How're you doing over there?" she asked Gavin. "I think the bleedin's just about stopped," he called back. 234

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Cheyenne was glad someone else seemed to have some common sense. "Good. Try to relieve the pressure. Slowly! Don't release it all at once. If it's still oozing, hold it a little longer. I may need some help over here. This doesn't look so good." Brows knitted together in a frown of concern, she returned to her inspection. Sliding Chris's pants down as she had Darian's, Cheyenne couldn't help but sneak a peek at his groin. Jeez! He's just as stocked as his brother! She snorted with disgust. A part of her wanted to castrate him, after what he'd tried to do to her. And if the situation weren't dire, she probably would. But now was not the time for vengeance. He was in real danger of bleeding to death, and she was the only one who could help. Begrudgingly, she set about doing what was right. Taking a cloth and dipping it into the steaming water, Cheyenne gently wiped some of the jelled blood away from the wound-bed, searching for the source of flow. Almost instantly, she found what she'd feared most—the femoral artery had been nicked. Luckily though, it was a very small puncture. Otherwise, she'd be inspecting a corpse by now. Squeezing her eyes shut, Cheyenne rubbed her temples. Think! How can I close this? Then a ridiculous solution presented itself—she'd have to make her own cauterizing tool. She spied an idle pair of guards next to the door. "You there, I need a fire and a sharp metal object, like a..." She almost blurted out pencil, but knew they'd think she was a lunatic. 235

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"A long skinny..." She formed one hand into a small O and then attempted to signify a shape about twelve inches long with the other. Cheyenne wanted to scream when they merely looked at her with confusion. Her desperate gaze swept the room, searching for something comparable. There's no time for this! "God's teeth, mon! Just get a narrow poker!" Gavin barked. "Hurry it up, or he's gonna die!" Cheyenne stared at Gavin, her brows arching with shock. Then she smiled in acknowledgement. It appeared he was about the only person on this planet with an ounce of intelligence. She was truly impressed by his resourcefulness. He'd make a good doctor. Obviously something these people need. Using her fingertip, Cheyenne pressed on the vessel above the tiny cut, trying to stunt the blood flow as much as possible. The minutes passed painstakingly slow. What's keeping them? Chris's life-force steadily seeped onto the cot. Her worry turned to distress as a cloud of alarm settled in her chest. She'd just turned panic-filled eyes to Gavin when the door burst open and the men rushed in. One carried a large smoking caldron and the other a piece of iron that was an almost perfect representation of what she'd been trying to explain. Cheyenne's eyes narrowed with anger. Apparently, they're not as dumb as they look. Or perhaps they were unsure about taking orders from a woman. 236

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Trying to ignore the infuriating idea, Cheyenne set about the next task at hand. "Okay, Gavin. I need you here. If, and only if, Darian isn't bleeding anymore." "I think he's okay fer now." Gavin slowly removed his hand. Once the pressure was gone, he paused, his eyes carefully watching Darian's wound. Seemingly satisfied his friend was momentarily all right, he circled the cot and went to Cheyenne's side. "What do ya want me to do?" Gavin's face was etched with concern as he looked down at Chris's injury. "That's nae good." "No. It's bad. Really bad. But we need someone to watch over—" Thor had just entered the room and was approaching Darian's bed. Oh, thank God. "Thor? Would you stay by Darian and make sure he doesn't start bleeding again? I have to take care of this before I can stitch him up." Thor nodded and did as he was told without hesitation. Cheyenne turned her attention back to Gavin. "Take that." She pointed to the piece of iron. "Put it in the fire until it gets really hot. I'm going to try and hold the vessel together with my fingers. When it's ready, I want you to touch the tip right here." She indicated the small, but profusely bleeding cut. "We're going to cauterize the edges together and stop the bleeding. It's the only way."

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Gavin nodded and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around the end of the iron poker to protect his hand. Then he thrust the tip into the middle of the blazing embers. Wiping as much blood away as she could, Cheyenne attempted to grab hold of the slippery vessel. But the moisture made it difficult to get a good grip, not to mention the fact she was trying to perform a task requiring surgical equipment, not bare hands! What I wouldn't do for a couple of hemostats. Cheyenne growled with frustration when she lost her grip and the vessel slipped through her fingertips, spurting blood once again. "Shit!" "It's almost ready," Gavin warned. Determination knitting her brow, Cheyenne stuffed a clean rag into the wound behind the targeted vessel and then positioned another in front. Taking hold of the evasive artery once again, she managed to squeeze the edges together. "Now!" She knew she couldn't hold it for long; the rags were already slipping. Gavin raised the glowing poker out of the cauldron and carefully brought the tip down to the spot between her fingers. His aim was accurate and precise, as though he'd performed the procedure a hundred times before. Almost instantly, the hissing of searing flesh and the smell of singed meat filled the room. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as they all held their breath and prayed for a miracle. When the heat from the poker pressed against her fingertips, Cheyenne winced and muffled a small cry of pain. 238

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But she held fast, letting the hot iron burn her, too. If she let go, Chris would surely die. There were no second chances here. Gavin slowly moved the hot tip across the vessel, touching lightly, then easing the edges of the small cut together with the meticulousness of a trained surgeon until the laceration was completely closed and the bleeding had stopped. "I think that's got it." He exhaled with a rush of air. Letting go as easily as she could, Cheyenne slowly removed her hands. "Good." Her voice was suddenly strained and thin. Gavin looked at her. "Cheyenne? Are ya all right?" Cheyenne swallowed. Her mouth was so very dry. She nodded her head. "Yeah, I just need to sit..." The words had barely left her lips before she'd started to slip downward. Throwing the poker aside, Gavin grabbed her before she hit the floor. "Get me some cold water an' a chair, now!" he yelled to one of Chris's guards. Cheyenne's mind swam in and out of consciousness as she felt something cool being pressed against her lips. As though struck by a bolt of realization, her eyes flew open and she nearly leapt from the chair. "Darian!" she cried, remembering his fragile state. "Oh my God, did I faint?" "He's all right," Gavin assured, holding her in the chair with a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Chris seems to be okay, too. I think ya just needed a break. How're ya feelin'?" 239

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Cheyenne brushed his hand away. "I'm fine. I need to finish cleaning their wounds. What do you use for suture ... er stitching?" Gavin looked at her and shook his head with disbelief. "Yer one tough lass. I'll see what I can find." His blue eyes sparkled with admiration and something else Cheyenne wasn't quite sure of. Feeling her strength rejuvenated, she got up from the chair and went first to Darian's bedside, and then to Chris's. She was just inspecting the cauterized vessel when a familiar voice from behind caused her to rise. "That was a good thin' ya did. 'Tis why yer the chosen one. You've a carin' heart. The bairn shall be a great leader, regardless of the sire. You'll see." Cheyenne turned to look at Marge. "In my world, I'm a nurse. It's my job to take care of people in need, regardless of how I feel about them personally." "Aye." Marge smiled. "But yer no longer in yer world, are ya?" Then she hobbled away without so much as a backward glance. She didn't need to say any more, her point was quite clear. Cheyenne didn't owe Darian or Chris a thing. She could have let them both die, and no one would have been the wiser to her medical knowledge. Then she could have set about trying to get back to her own world. So why did she do it? Cheyenne looked at both brothers for a moment. She couldn't deny how she felt about Darian. From the moment she'd laid eyes on him, he'd embedded himself in her heart. 240

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But why Chris? He'd kidnapped her, hit her, tried to rape her—he'd have succeeded if it weren't for Darian. So why had she bothered with him? Pressing both hands over her eyes as if they burned with weariness, Cheyenne sighed. She supposed it didn't matter where she was—this world, her world—she'd always feel compelled to help those in need. Although she'd like nothing more than to remove a certain part of Chris's anatomy, and would probably regret later that she didn't, she couldn't just walk away and let him die when she knew she could save his life. Or at the very least, try. Taking some of the clean towels and immersing them in the cooling water Gavin had boiled for her, she began cleaning Darian's wound. Although Chris's injury probably needed more attention than his brother's, she decided Darian was her first priority. Hey, no one's perfect. If I have to choose one, then I choose him As she inspected the laceration, she was surprised he hadn't suffered any serious injuries. It appeared as though all his vital organs had been missed by mere centimeters. She wondered if luck ran with the Andreas name because she was looking at two men who, by all rights, should have been dead. And yet, both had managed to evade death's grasp by some unknown grace. Gavin returned as she was finishing Darian's wound. "You're just in time," she said, her lips curling into a soft grin. Gavin stared at her a long moment, his face strangely pinched as though holding his breath. This time, there was no 241

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mistaking the look in his eyes. Cheyenne let out a nervous laugh. "You okay?" Trying to disregard his appreciative gaze, she held out her hand out. His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip as he took a step toward her. Then his mouth opened and Cheyenne had the strangest notion he was going to kiss her. "Cheyenne..." He blinked his eyes a few times. Then he shook his head, seemingly clearing his thoughts. As though finally finding his rationality, Gavin returned her smile and handed her the supplies. "I dinna ken if this is what ya'd call suture, but it's what we use." Cheyenne touched the strange thread, tugging on it to test its strength. Then she cautiously tapped the needle's point, making sure it was sharp enough to do the job. Gingerly fingering the wiry strands, "Tell me this isn't—" "Harse hair. Works great," Gavin said cheerily, a warm smile lighting his features. Cheyenne rolled her eyes. "Lord help me," she groaned. **** Cheyenne sat in the chair across the room from where Darian and Chris lay sleeping. She was trying her best to stay awake, but failing miserably. Each time her head nodded forward, she'd jerk upright, determined to be alert when Darian woke. It had been a long three days since the fight, and she hadn't left the infirmary for more than a few minutes at a 242

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time. Both Darian and Chris were recovering quite well. Neither one seemed to be in danger of infection. Cheyenne had meticulously kept their wounds clean and as sterile as possible by using soaks of hot salt water. She just prayed the peace continued a little while longer until Darian could be safely moved. So far, both sides were abiding the truce. Walking over to his sleeping form, she made another assessment of his healing wound. There was no one in the room but him, her, and Chris. A mischievous smile twitched her lips as she slowly lifted the blanket from Darian's hips and brazenly looked upon his nakedness. She chewed at her fingernail, feeling like a naughty child. Unable to resist touching him, she slid her hand along the smooth contour of his firm abdomen and down toward his groin. The muscles were hard beneath her fingertips. Just the feel of his skin made her pulse race and her heart hammer within her chest. You should be ashamed! Taking advantage of an unconscious man. But she couldn't help herself. Over the last three days, she'd repeatedly seen both of their naked forms enough to memorize just about every detail they each possessed. Although Chris was just as appealing, and undeniably strapping, Darian alone held her interest. It saddened her to think the only reason he wanted her was because of the stupid prophecy. She suddenly felt dejected. I have so much love to give. 243

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What was she to do? Follow her heart and have it broken? Or follow her head and quietly slip away, never knowing what it felt like to give herself completely to the one man she wanted. Either way, she ended up getting hurt. It didn't quite seem fair. Suddenly, the muscles beneath her fingers tensed. Jerking her hand away and dropping the sheet, Cheyenne took a step back from Darian's bed. When she looked at his face, her gaze met a pair of dancing green eyes. One of his dark brows arched with inquisition and the beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his firm mouth. "Find anythin' of interest?" he whispered with an air of innocence. Cheyenne was helpless to stop her embarrassment. Her blood pounded and her face grew hot with humiliation. She was instantly ashamed of herself. "I was just inspecting your wound," she replied defensively, not sounding nearly as convincing as she'd have liked. "That's all." But Darian wasn't fooled. He drew his lips together thoughtfully. "Oh, I thought mayhap you was takin' advantage of me. Nae that I'd mind, but I'd rather be awake. Makes it a tad more enjoyable." Cheyenne's mouth dropped open with disbelief. He's still as arrogant as ever! Her embarrassment quickly turned to raw anger. What an egotistical...

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Never mind the fact he was right, she sure as heck wasn't going to let him know it. With her hands planted on her hips, she fixed him with a heated stare. "Now you listen here, mister. I've spent the last three days saving both your hides. Yes, I've seen you naked." Cheyenne gulped. "Repeatedly," she added as an afterthought. It came out a little more strained than she wanted. "But don't think just because I've seen and touched some of your ... I'm not going to willingly jump into your bed." "You'll be in mine." Cheyenne nearly leaped out of her skin as Chris's deep voice, sounded behind her. She turned just in time to see him struggling to sit up. Fearing he might cause further injury to himself, she hurried over to his bedside. "Don't sit up! You're going to make your leg bleed again. You have to stay flat for a few more days, at least until the vessel has had time to mend." Without thinking about what she was doing, Cheyenne started to lift the sheet and inspect his wound to make sure he hadn't tore it open again. She was shocked when a steely hand clamped over her wrist. "I haven't changed my mind," Chris declared. He dropped his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "I will finish what I started." His grip tightened until she let out a small, protesting yelp. ****

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Darian watched the exchange between Cheyenne and his brother with mixed feelings of anger and jealousy. What exactly did Chris mean? Had he already touched her? If he has, I swear I'll— Cheyenne's voice, as smooth and cool as ice water, interrupted Darian's murderous thoughts. "Oh, I'm sorry, love," she began with a sarcastic sneer. "I forgot to tell you, I removed your manhood while you were out. It was quite simple really, just a little snip and—" Chris's face contorted into a mask of horror. Immediately releasing her wrist, he yanked back the blanket to see if she spoke the truth. "Auck! Thank the gods." His audible sigh of relief when he saw she jested was enough to make Darian roar with laughter. Quickly moving out of his brother's reach, Cheyenne stood at the foot between both beds. "What are you laughing at?" she asked tartly, hands on hips, chin tilted rebelliously. "I contemplated removing yours, too. The idea was very tempting since neither one of you have acted like gentlemen with me." Darian propped himself up on one elbow, wincing as pain shot through his thigh. "Ya wouldn't have done that," he challenged, his tone velvety soft and playful as a kitten. **** Cheyenne tried to ignore the sensual flame in his alluring, green eyes and the seductive pout of his full, bottom lip. Damn him! Why does he have to be so devastating? 246

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Disregarding the voice in her head that warned she was making a mistake, Cheyenne slowly walked back to the side of Darian's bed. Shyly smiling through trembling lips, "I thought you were going to die," she disclosed in a small voice that broke with emotion. The admission brought tears of relief to her tired eyes. She gulped hard as two hot tears rolled down her flushed cheeks. Unable to stop it and against her will, her strength gave way and she let down her veiled guard, setting loose a floodtide of mixed emotions. Darian's fingers stroked her arm in long lazy circles, moving ever so slowly up to her shoulder. His touch felt cool and welcomed upon her heated skin. Cheyenne closed her eyes as his hand brushed along her jaw, caressing the firm line with his thumb. When his palm reached around the back of her neck and gently pulled her toward him, she found she had no strength to resist. She no longer wanted to. Why deny herself the joy of his touch? The day of reckoning couldn't be postponed forever. But it was her own driving need that shocked her. How had she fallen in love with a man who only cared about her part in some absurd prophecy? When had she lost her heart? The very moment I laid eyes on you, my Golden Hercules. Allowing him to pull her downward, the last of Cheyenne's defenses melted away. She could feel the sexual magnetism between them that made him so self-confident, so irresistible.

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Her defiance had vanished like a fleeting dream, and she was left exposed and weak in the aftermath of uncertainty. Resistance was futile. His gaze was riveted on her face and something intense flared through his entrancement. Her heart pounded violently, sending her pulse racing through her ears. He was pleasantly disturbing to her in every way. At first his lips brushed lightly across hers, teasing them with maddening gentleness. But as he felt her excitement beginning to flower, his mouth grew demanding, covering hers with an urgency that left her mind reeling and her desire burning with a fire that threatened to consume them both. She felt her spirit lift from the ground on winged-feet and her heart soared with secret passion and unspoken love. "I am lost," she whispered against his mouth. "Then let me find ya," he whispered back. His mouth sought hers once again and Cheyenne eagerly obliged. "He only wants to sire the bairn. Ya know that, nay?" Chris's cruel words cut into her dream-like trance, shattering the hope in her heart and hurtling her back to the harsh reality she so desperately wanted to ignore. Pulling away from Darian's grasp, she turned her back so he couldn't see the pained look on her face. She kept waiting for him to say something against Chris's accusation, praying he'd give her some indication what she'd just felt was sincere. But when he remained silent, Cheyenne knew it had to be true. 248

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Not so different after all. The realization was a searing flame that burned her soul. Her heart ached to the point of physical pain. Despair darkened her soul. It shriveled like a delicate rose caught in the first winter freeze as ice spread through her veins. At least Chris was honest. He told me exactly what he wanted, no lies, no false promises. With tears of sadness stinging her eyes, she looked at Darian, wondering when he'd have broken the news to her. Would it have been right after he made sure she carried his child? Or would he have waited until the baby's birth to announce her services were no longer needed. The probability made her nauseated with disappointment and grief. As anguish threatened her last bit of self-control, she turned and walked stiffly away. Without so much as a backward glance, Cheyenne crossed the room and quietly let herself out. She felt as if her whole universe had suddenly been turned upside down. Her body was exhausted, her pride wounded. And right now, she really didn't want to look at or even be in the same room with either one of them. Marge was waiting in the hall as she closed the door behind her. As though reading her thoughts, the old woman took her arm and patted her hand. "It'll work out. I promise. Come now, lassie, let's get ya somethin' to eat, a nice bath, an' a long nap. Ya've done all ya can do. There's healin' to be done in there that neither you nor I can do. 'Tis all up to them." 249

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Cheyenne smiled weakly down at Marge. "I know, but ... I just want him to love me for who I am, not what I am." Marge sighed. "It's gonna take some time. Stubborn as mules, both of 'em. But, 'tis one thin' that's unavoidable, someone's gonna gain an achin' heart." Yeah, Cheyenne agreed silently. Me.

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CHAPTER 21 Cheyenne slumped in the velvet-covered armchair. She'd been staring out the window in her small bedchamber for nearly two hours. Dark gray clouds shadowed the sky outside, much like the ones enveloping her inner self. Permanent sorrow weighed her down and she ached with internal pain. A bitter cold despair dwelt in the caves of her aching soul, leaving her frigid and reserved. To escape this unbearable sense of desolation, she'd wrapped herself in a cocoon of anguish. The only thing left of her once carefree and hopeful spirit was the raw sores of a broken heart. It was like an old wound that throbbed on a rainy day. A nagging reminder of something she'd rather forget. Like a damaged record refusing to quit, she replayed Chris's cruel words and the long convicting silence that had followed, re-living the torment of that horrible scene over and over until she thought she'd go mad from the anguish. The hurt gnawed relentlessly, like a cancer eating at her from the inside out. And each time, the vision nibbled at her essence, slowly devouring it until soon there would be nothing left. She closed her eyes, feeling utterly miserable. It had been several days since Darian and Chris had wakened, and each dawn brought a rise in the tension mounting between them. She tried to avoid the infirmary as much as possible, only going in a couple of times a day to check their wounds and give instructions to the servants. Just 251

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those short visits took all her strength and willpower. She succeeded only by sheer necessity. Although she'd already guessed as much, Cheyenne learned the screeching woman that slapped her the day she was tied to Chris's bed was none other than Serena. She'd also heard Serena had been spending hours at a time in the infirmary, alone. No doubt entertaining both Chris and Darian. As she looked at the platter the servant had left earlier, Cheyenne's stomach turned in rebellion. The food had long ago turned cold and inedible. But it didn't matter; she wasn't hungry anyhow. Every day Darian grew stronger, and she more dejected. Soon, he'd come to her and demand she let him into her room. The waiting was nearly more than she could bear. She almost preferred Chris's manner. Although there would be no tenderness in his touch, at least he wouldn't rape her heart as well. A firm knock interrupted her melancholic thoughts. Cheyenne glanced toward the chamber door. "Come in," she called flatly. Gavin poked his head in the room. "We'll be leavin' on the morrow." Swallowing the sob that rose in her throat, she looked up at him. "Okay," she replied quietly and shrugged with mock resignation. His dark brows furrowed with concern. "Cheyenne?" Gavin slipped inside the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he approached her, stopping just a few feet 252

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away. When he glanced at her untouched food, his expression became alarmed. "Yer nae eatin'. Why?" Cheyenne shrugged again. Why did he care if she ate or not? "Not hungry." She was shocked speechless when he suddenly grabbed her shoulders with harsh fingers, pulled her to her feet, and shook her forcefully, as if trying to get through her dazed fog. "Did Chris force 'imself ... Did 'e take ya before we ... I swear I'll kill 'im m'self if—" Cheyenne hesitated, blinking with bewilderment at his brutish behavior. But then the accusation of his words sunk in and her surprise turned to white-hot fury. She felt the screams of frustration rising in her throat. Only a faint thread of sanity kept her from lapsing into complete hysteria. Jerking free of his grasp, she took an unsteady step back. She was so angry she could hardly speak. All her pain, hurt, and confusion suddenly melted together into a gamut of uncontrollable wrath that left her trembling. "Am I still a virgin? Is that what you want to know?" Her voice was taut and dripped with sarcasm. "Does it matter what I say? Would you believe me anyhow? Why bother asking? Why not find out for yourself?" Cheyenne knew it was a reckless invitation, but she no longer cared. Why save herself for Darian? Her debauchery had only one purpose. Why not use Gavin to fulfill it? Wouldn't that serve Darian and Chris right? To find out neither one of them sired my baby? 253

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Suddenly, the desire to get even overrode all sense of reasoning. Lifting her chin, her lips softened in mute invitation. "Well?" A muscle twitched in Gavin's jaw as he struggled with temptation. "Dinna entice me, lass." He pointed a thick finger in her direction as if scolding an unruly child. "If Darian wasn't—" "If Darian wasn't what? Did he send you in here to find out? Was it before or after his little romp in the infirmary with Serena? I hear she's been spending an awful lot of time in there. Maybe that's why he's healing so well!" Cheyenne was nearly screaming, but she didn't care. Her hurt and anger had been building for days, festering like an infected wound. Now the much needed release was inevitable, unstoppable. And Gavin was her unfortunate victim. **** Although Gavin hadn't made his presence apparent, he'd been watching Cheyenne closely for the last several days. He'd noticed her growing unhappiness, and couldn't help but wonder if Darian were the cause. It pained him to see her this way, and he yearned to comfort her soul. Yet, fearing his own stirring emotions, he'd stayed in the shadows. As he looked closely at her now, he could see the skin on her cheeks was drawn, the color pale. It was obvious she'd lost a considerable amount of weight. And now he understood the source of her misery. She's jealous. He couldn't believe it. Cheyenne actually thought Darian and Serena were... 254

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But never mind that, she'd offered him an open challenge he couldn't just walk away from. At least not without a sample first. It would be closest he'd ever come to tasting her passion. And not even the malefaction in his heart could deter the spark of desire that instantly sprang to life in his groin. "I'm only gonna ask ya once more. Did Chris touch ya?" Gavin struggled to maintain his composure while all he could focus on was the persuasive pout on her sensual lips and seductive tilt of her upturned chin. Cheyenne tossed her hair back in a gesture of mutiny. Her indigo eyes blazed like fiery amethysts as she fixed him with a glare that seethed with mounting rage. Placing her hands on her hips, she boldly met his fierce gaze with one of her own. "That's none of your business," she retorted indignantly. The last of Gavin's patience crumbled when she haughtily turned to walk away from him. Auria. Ya want to do this the hard way? Let's find out how long yer charade holds up under pressure. Quickly crossing the distance between them, Gavin lunged for her. "Darian did say to use whatever means necessary to insure yer purity," he lied, easily grabbing her about the waist as she shrieked and attempted to flee. Truth was, Darian had no idea he was even in her room, and would probably draw and quarter him himself when he found out. Dragging her to the bed, he shoved her down onto the downy comforter and covered her body with his own. "Ya know, Darian isn't the only mon who's noticed yer lovely curves an' pleasin' shape. Ya think it's been easy fer me to 255

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watch 'im touch ya, or wonder if he's tasted yer sweet nectar when my own desires have nearly drove me barmy?" Gavin knew he was pushing things too far, but he couldn't stop himself. He wouldn't deny her desirability, but she was off limits. So he was totally unprepared for his body's overwhelming response when his lips claimed hers in a hungry, shattering kiss. **** Cheyenne didn't know if it was rebellion against the pain Darian had caused her, or her own lack of strength. But she found herself responding to Gavin's touch with shocking urgency. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss just as fervently. Does it really matter who the baby's father is? Why not him? Is there a rule that says it has to be Darian or Chris? Maybe if she gave herself to Gavin, then all the fighting would end. Her feelings obviously weren't a major factor in the scheme of this so-called prophecy. While Darian entertained himself with Serena, why shouldn't she do the same with Gavin? He was certainly pleasing enough. Besides, she'd rather give her innocence willingly than have it taken by force. Perhaps she'd saved herself for nothing. If emotions weren't to be involved, why deny herself this pleasure any longer? **** Gavin's hand gently molded around one of her breasts, memorizing the soft curve with his weather-roughened palm. 256

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He hadn't anticipated her reacting this way. His plan had backfired. He thought she'd fight against him. Then give up and surrender the information he sought. He never expected her to welcome his touch. But a little voice of warning nagged in his brain that maybe all was not what it appeared. It was like a mosquito buzzing and harassing his conscience until he felt weak with indecisiveness. Just a little more, he pleaded. An' I'll ne'er ask fer more. Part of him wanted to take advantage of this precious opportunity, to touch and feel as much of her as he possibly could before she either changed her mind or his own common sense made him stop. He knew once Darian fully recuperated, he'd never let her out of his sight again. This would be it; the only chance he got. But as his mouth moved over hers with insatiable hunger, he tasted the salty flavor of fresh tears. When the acrid sensation burned his tongue, Gavin knew her surrender wasn't voluntary. Although her body seemed willing enough, it was obvious her heart was not. Halting his ravishment, he leaned his forehead against hers and squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a long anguished breath. What am I doin'? This isn't right. Her love belongs to Darian. Gavin looked at her face, painfully noticing the wet tracks that trailed down her cheeks and the trembling of her lower lip as she struggled to suffer her anguish in silence. With one 257

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thumb, he wiped away a renegade tear as it broke free from her dark lashes and raced down her smooth skin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He didn't quite know what to say. The hurt and longing lay naked in her sad eyes. "This isn't yer fault. It's mine." **** Cheyenne turned her head away, trying to hide her inner misery from his probing stare. What have I done? "Just leave," she whispered quietly, attempting to ease his embarrassment, and hers as well. Although she was shocked by his actions, she was even more ashamed by her own response to them. Her eyes clouded once again with unshed tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her moist lashes. She bit her lower lip until it throbbed with every pulse that surged through her body, struggling to prevent the sob that rose in her throat from escaping. A sensation of intense sickness and shame swept over her like a tidal wave crashing on the shore. Then a new anguish seared her insides. She felt as though she'd just betrayed the man she loved, even though she knew he cared nothing for her beyond her value as the chosen woman to bear the prophesied child. A stab of guilt buried itself within her breast like a steely dagger, piercing her heart. I've not only deceived Darian, I've let myself down as well. His lack of affection didn't matter. It was the disloyalty to her own feelings that caused her chest to tighten with distress. Gavin's touch had only reinforced her biggest fear— 258

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she was in love with Darian. The realization was as clear as glass and as solid as granite. There was no point in denying it. Every day her feelings deepened and intensified. He had unlocked the doorway to her soul. And now, she was nothing but an empty vault of burning need. Trapped by her own helplessness, she was defeated. Although her flesh had responded to Gavin's skillful caresses, her heart had cried out with despair. It was Darian's touch her body craved, and it was his love her spirit yearned for. Choking back another sob, she looked up at Gavin with pleading eyes. "Please, don't tell him." She didn't need to say his name. Gavin knew exactly to whom she referred. Nodding his head, he rolled off the bed and walked toward the door. Cheyenne watched his retreating backside. Pausing at the handle, his body shuddered as he drew in a sharp breath. Then he turned as if to say something else, but the words were lost as the sadness in her eyes beseeched him to let it go. Gavin opened the door and stepped out, quietly closing it behind him. As soon as she was alone, Cheyenne turned over to face the window again. Unable to contain her grief any longer, she covered her face with trembling hands and gave vent to the wretchedness that sweltered deep within her. Hot tears stained the pillow as she let the raging emotions flow from her body in a much-needed release. The heartwrenching sobs racked her to the core, making her limbs 259

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shake with violent shudders. She wept aloud, holding her pillow to her face to muffle the pitiful wails, gripping it as one would a life preserver in an ocean maelstrom. So engrossed in the raw and primitive grief that overwhelmed her, she didn't even turn to see who'd invaded her miserable solitude when she heard the bedchamber door open or when light steps approached the bed. She didn't care who the figure was behind her, silently watching her trembling figure as she poured out her anguish into the crumpled bedclothes. It wasn't until her sobs melted into soft hiccups that Cheyenne felt ready to face her intruder. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she sniffed a few times, then slowly rolled over. Her lips felt like old paper, cracked and dry, as they tightened into a thin, pursed line. The color drained from her face, leaving her feeling fragile and puny. And her heart tightened with vice-like force, squeezing in agony as she looked upon a familiar scowl. Darian stood stiff and motionless next to the side of her bed. His expression was tight and pained, like he'd been struck in the face. His eyes were clouded with guilt and his shoulders hung low, heaving as though weighted with boulders as he breathed. His very presence was almost more than she could bear. Just the sight of him nearly broke her down once again. Her stomach knotted into a tight ball and her body stiffened under his withering glare. She could feel her throat closing up as the tears involuntarily filled her distraught gaze. His effect on her was shattering. 260

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Cheyenne groaned with distress. "What do you ... want?" The words were forced from her lips as she choked on an escaping sob. Darian's chest shuddered as he drew in a long shaky breath. His whole body seemed to be vibrating with barely restrained control. "Cheyenne," he breathed heavily, his own voice terse with anguish as though he suffered some silent agony. Cheyenne was overwhelmed by the torment of the past few weeks. His reasoning for being there no longer seemed to matter. In that instant, she realized she couldn't stand the thought of never knowing what it felt like to have him completely. Afraid he might leave, she held out her arms, beckoning him into her willing embrace. **** Darian exhaled soundly. For the first time in a long while, he felt weak and helpless, her apparent agony piercing him like the cold metal of a warrior's blade. He started to climb onto the bed beside her, but stopped. "Are ya sure?" he asked tentatively, afraid she might change her mind and send him away. Cheyenne stared at him in silence, as though she couldn't find her voice. An eternity seemed to pass as he nervously waited for her final answer. Just when he thought she'd surely deny him, she timidly licked her dry lips and lifted her mouth in mute invitation. Begging him with her eyes, she adamantly nodded her head. 261

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Darian gently eased his weight down next to her. Propping himself up on one elbow, he lightly fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek, smoothing it back from her face. "Gavin came to the infirmary a few moments ago," he began, watching her expression carefully for any clue to her apparent distress. With the exception of new tears that swirled in her cheerless eyes, her face remained emotionless, successfully concealing the source of her pain. Although Gavin had denied it, Darian was almost certain something had happened between them. He'd known Gavin too long not to recognize the guilty set of his jaw when he'd done something bad. When she refused to reveal anything, Darian continued. "He said I should come an' see ya. Is there somethin' wrong?" His finger trailed down her neck, tormenting her skin with a gentle caress. "Did somethin' happen I should know about?" **** Cheyenne felt like a child caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. Her throat ached with shame, the bitter taste of guilt rising in her gullet and making it burn. The determined look in his eyes told her he wouldn't be satisfied with anything but the truth. Praying she didn't make the biggest mistake of her life, she inhaled an unsteady breath and burst into a recount of what had happened. She tried her best to make it sound as though it was just an innocent situation that had gotten out of hand; because, that's all it was—an accident, a mistake, a 262

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lack of judgment on her part. Whatever it was, it never should have happened. When she'd finished, delivering the last condemning blow by admitting her own shameful response to Gavin's advance, Cheyenne fell silent. She looked at the closed expression in Darian's dark eyes, searching for some sign that he felt something, anything, even anger. Just ... something. What she saw made her insides turn frigid with despair. He frowned, his eyes suddenly blazing under drawn brows. An angry muscle quivered in his jaw and his mouth twisted wryly. Cheyenne felt herself shrink beneath his contemptuous gaze. "Will I have to worry every time I'm away that you'll be invitin' 'im into yer bed?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and laced with a bitter edge of cynicism. Her lips parted in a surprised gasp. At first she was hurt by his presumptuous accusation, but then her pain turned to outrage. Who was he to pass judgment on what she did? Hadn't he been spending the last several days behind closed doors with his ex-fiancé while she'd sat in her room, pining over him, miserable and sick with the knowledge that he'd never love her the way she did him? The thought of them together fueled her anger until she nearly burst at the seams. Pulling away from him, Cheyenne rolled off the bed. She turned away and stood absolutely motionless for a long moment, struggling to regain her composure before telling him off and ordering him to get out. When she whipped around to face him, she nearly lost her balance and took an unsteady step backward as she saw the 263

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look of implacable fury in his cold, green eyes. For a brief instant, Cheyenne thought she saw a flash of pain before a hardened shroud of contempt quickly covered it. All her insurgence quickly disintegrated into self-loathing, leaving her feeling sick with impiety. "Well?" Cheyenne clenched her teeth, struggling with the inner turmoil raging through her. Abandoning all pretenses, she let her rebellious emotions cloud her judgment. "No more than I'll have to worry about Serena being in yours," she shot back, her voice laced with sharpened rancor. Much to her chagrin, Darian suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. For some reason, he found her jealously amusing. He was teasing her, mocking her. And the cruelty of it was unbearable. The callous sound of his humor only served to heighten her anger. Cheyenne stood ramrod straight, hands tightly clenched into balls at her sides. She struggled to restrain her outrage lest she let lose an abandoned blaze of fury that burned them both. Seemingly regaining control of his callous mirth, Darian cleared his throat. "Is that what this is all about?" Cheyenne didn't answer. She merely stared daggers at him in return, wishing he'd just leave her to her misery and stop rubbing salt into her already aching wounds. Was he going to deny it now? Insult her intelligence by lying? "Cheyenne?" His left brow rose a fraction. An amused grin touched the corners of his lips as he regarded her severe posture. "Are ya jealous?" 264

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When she refused to grace him with an answer, Darian slowly got up from the bed and walked toward her. "I'm nae gonna lie. Serena did offer 'er services. Aye, she's been in the infirmary quite a lot lately. But I assure ya, 'twas nae to see me." As he approached, Cheyenne backed away until she found herself pressed against the wall. "That's close enough." Darian ignored her and moved even closer, until he left her no room at all. Placing a restraining hand on the wall on either side of her face, he prevented her from escaping. Then he tilted his head forward, bringing his mouth mere inches from hers. His pleased, self-confident smile left her shaking and weak at the knees. He reminded her of a predator, stalking its prey. And I've become his target! She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes darted past him to the crumpled sheets on the bed. Even in his weakened state, she knew he could easily overpower her, do to her whatever he wished. But she had to wonder, if he tried, would she even put up a fight? Or would she welcome his rapture? Cheyenne swallowed hard, trying to appear undaunted despite the tremulous quivering of her insides. Her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath. Clamping her jaw tight, she stared back at him in mute defiance. "I guess there's no way I can prove naught has happened between Serena an' me. You'll have to take my word, just as I'll have to take yers. But know this, I'll nae tolerate anyone 265

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touchin' ya but me. Make no mistake; anyone who does, will suffer a slow an' agonizin' death, by my own hand." Fear knotted her insides. She couldn't let Gavin be punished for something that was probably more her fault than his. If she hadn't recklessly challenged him ... "Gavin?" she choked out. Darian stiffened at the question. "Will be dealt with appropriately," he replied curtly. Finally finding her strength, Cheyenne stared at him with disbelief. "Gavin helped save your life, yours and Chris's. If it hadn't been for him, I couldn't have done it. He cares deeply for you, Darian. Please, don't do something foolish over—" "Over you?" He snorted sarcastically. "I wouldn't kill my best friend over any lass. But I'll make sure he an' I have an understandin' about you." Cheyenne's eyes narrowed with renewed anger. "Which is?" she asked through stiff lips. "Ya belong to me." His expression grew hungry as he stared at the stubborn set of her jaw. His eyes sparkled like polished jade, brightly glowing with a savage inner fire. And there was a hint of challenge in the smoldering depths, as if he knew his proclamation would infuriate her. Cheyenne snapped her head to the side, avoiding Darian's mouth when his head dipped forward. "I don't belong to anyone," she replied tartly. "And I won't be privy to this ridiculous prophecy everyone seems to be caught up in. How long were you going to keep up your little charade before telling me the real reason you wanted me?" 266

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Fixing him with a heated glare bordering on outrage, she shoved at his chest. "I didn't want to believe Chris's accusations, but I guess he was right. You're no better than he is, you've just convinced everyone else you are." Biting her lower lip as tears stung her eyes, she looked away so he couldn't see the hurt of betrayal in her aching soul. "Even me." The final declaration was a pained whispered. **** Darian wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he'd wanted her from the instant he'd seen her, before he knew how important she was. He didn't care about the silly prophecy. She'd broken through the walls surrounding his heart and penetrated him to the very core. His every thought, every breath, every movement was filled with her. It was as if suddenly, his very existence depended upon her. But he couldn't tell her these things. Because if he did, his heart would be left exposed and she'd surely rip it out, destroying him. Nay, I can't be vulnerable again. Darian traced the line of her cheekbone and jaw, then touched her trembling lips with one fingertip. Cupping her chin, he gently nudged it forward, taking in the multitude of emotions displayed on her upturned face. When he saw the intense pain and suffering in her tear-filled eyes, it was nearly more than he could bear. If only he could tell her how he felt without risking everything that maintained his sanity. 267

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His yearning had built to near explosion, like the pressure of a volcano on the verge eruption. She projected an energy and power that undeniably attracted him. Like a helpless sailor to the beckoning of a seductive siren, he found himself unable to resist. Feeling the stony barriers so carefully built around his tender heart beginning to crumble, he gave himself up to the emotions he'd tried so hard to deny. Bending his head forward, Darian's mouth lightly brushed across hers in a gentle caress. "I want you, just you," he whispered hoarsely, his lips feathering against hers as he spoke. **** An electrifying shudder reverberated through Cheyenne as his soft plea melted away the last of her defenses. She hadn't realized what a powerfully persuasive opponent she'd chosen. It appeared as though she'd lost the battle, even before it had begun. What's the use in fighting? Deep down inside, she knew her surrender was inevitable. His reasons for wanting her no longer seemed important. Her own needs demanded gratification. And there was only one way to satiate them.

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CHAPTER 22 Cheyenne's body swayed toward Darian, instinctively pressing against his in silent surrender. It was all the permission he needed. In one swift motion, he swept her weightlessly into his arms and started back toward the bed. The intensity of his gaze made her heart turn over in response. Cheyenne knew there would be no stopping him this time. She was about to give him everything she had to give. And the idea filled her with mixed feelings of breathless excitement and nervous anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of their future, this moment felt right. He was the one she'd been waiting for. Her heart fluttered as the realization sank in. No regrets. Cheyenne swallowed hard as he gently laid her on the bed and dropped down beside her. The heat emanating from his body seemed to burn her skin, even through their clothing. She shuddered with expectancy as she imagined it would be nearly unbearable when there were no garments separating their flesh. Darian wound a hand through her hair, pulled it up, then let it slip through his fingers to fall in a dark halo upon the pillow. "So soft." His voice was a whisper as he watched the silky locks spill around her face. "Just the feel of yer hair makes me quake inside." His eyes were filled with childlike wonder. 269

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The declaration was deeply touching. Currents of need shot through her insides. Cheyenne wondered if he even knew he'd spoken aloud. As though looking at her for the first time, his fingers gently traced the contours of her brow, her cheek, her jaw, slowly moving toward the curve of her throat. Then he slipped one digit under the shoulder strap of her chemise and gently nudged it aside. Bending his head forward, he brushed his mouth across the tingling skin, trailing tiny kisses toward her neck. Cheyenne nearly burst when she felt the heady sensation of his lips against the sensitive flesh of her throat. Little by little, warmth crept back into her frozen heart, melting the icy prison surrounding her soul and releasing the captive passion and love inside. No longer hindered with the restraints of insecurity and grief, her desire erupted into a raging inferno that set her entire being on fire. "The last few days have been naught short of torture," he whispered hoarsely, his breath stirring tiny wisps of hair against her ear. "Every time ya came into the infirmary, I wanted to pull ya into my arms an' kiss ya. I've thought of naught but yer sweet lips an' soft curves." The sincerity of his words made Cheyenne shudder. She wanted to believe him. With all her heart, she wanted to. Only a tiny thread of doubt kept her trust in check. "Serena?" She practically choked out the name. "Means naught to me. I dinna ken what was worse, the excruciatin' pain of healin', or the sickenin' sight of Chris an' her pawin' all over each other. I think they enjoyed performin' 270

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lewd acts in front of me, since I was powerless to leave. I've thought of naught but you. Wanted naught but you." Cheyenne slowly raised her eyes to his, searching for honesty in his words. She nearly cried out with joy when she saw his sincerity. His heart lay stripped and vulnerable in the depth of his gaze, giving her free will to look upon his exposed soul. The adoration he stubbornly refused to confess was openly portrayed in his defenseless stare. With shy inexperience, her arms slowly crept around his neck and pulled him down toward her. Her lips sought his with desperate need, offering an open invitation to take all he wanted. She did indeed belong to him, more than he realized. The last of Darian's reserve seemingly shattered when her yielding mouth pressed against his. He buried his hands in her thick hair, tangling his fingers in the dark locks until she was powerless to change her mind, even if she'd wanted to. His lips hungrily covered hers, eagerly devouring their softness with fevered urgency. Cheyenne was pleasantly shocked by her response to his ravishment. Intense pleasure radiated through her body like bright sunshine, warming every inch until she felt as though she were burning alive. When his tongue demanded entrance into the moist recesses of her mouth, she eagerly obliged, granting him a thorough exploration. "I want to see an' touch every inch of ya," he breathed heavily against her lips. "Would ya like that?" Nodding her head, Cheyenne smoothed her palms against his cheeks and sought his mouth once again. Trying to throttle the dizzying current racing through her insides, she 271

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focused on the taste of his lips and smell of his skin. She drank in the musky aroma of his male scent with parched thirst. But her own fiery desire threatened to consume her as her impatience began to mount. While his mouth danced with hers, Darian's hands began a thorough exploration of her body. His fingertips casually trailed along her side, slowly moving up toward her breast. He gently cupped the round globe, fondling its fullness and testing its weight in his palm. His thumb rolled across her nipple, tormenting the rosy nub to marble hardness. Cheyenne let out a lusty moan and thrust her breast more fully into his hand. The flimsy chemise seemed like an irritating barrier. Wanting to feel the warmth of his palm upon her naked skin, she squirmed beneath his touch. As though Darian sensed her annoyance, his fingers slipped under the shoulder straps and slowly eased them downward, pulling the gown to her waist. His fervent gaze eagerly took in the golden hue of her bosom and the dusky pink shade of her erect nipples. Closing his eyes, he inhaled sharply, catching the faint smell of her erotic pheromones. "So bonnie." Piercing her with an amorous stare, he leaned forward to capture one taunt peak between his teeth. His tongue caressed her sensitive nipple, tantalizing the bud until it had swelled to its fullest. The gentle massage sent currents of desire, like sparks of electricity, racing through her insides. And just when she thought she could withstand no more, he moved to the other one, resuming his ardent assault until she was nearly wild with anticipation. 272

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"Darian!" Cheyenne felt as though she were going to explode. "Shhh ... Patience, my wee bonnie lass," he chided lovingly. "I've only just begun to taste ya." A mischievous glare danced in his eyes as his mouth came down again to possess her already swollen bud. Seemingly satisfied he'd wreaked enough havoc on her upper body, he moved downward. Easing the chemise over her hips, he slipped it off her legs and carelessly tossed it aside. Then he spent several moments worshiping her with his eyes. With a slow and seductive sweep, his gaze moved along her naked form. He paused at her breasts before continuing down to the gentle swell of her hips. And then even further to the thick patch of dark hair shrouding her womanhood. He reached out, lightly running his hand along the black, downy fur covering her doorway to heaven. As though shocked by his touch, Cheyenne's body jolted. Her stomach muscles clenched and she had to suppress the urge to thrust her hips against his hand. A tiny cry escaped her lips as he gently parted her thighs and curled his hand along her opening. His touch was light and deliciously teasing as his fingertip probed her delicate petals, skillfully easing them open. When his finger slipped inside and began to caress her inner wall, Cheyenne bit her lip to stifle a yelp of surprise. Her hips, seemingly of their own volition, slowly rocked in unison with his palm, meeting each stroke as his skillful massage brought her closer and closer to culmination. 273

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When her inner muscles began to tighten around his finger, he stayed his caress, delaying her release. "Nae yet, lass. I want yer first orgasm to be shatterin', one that'll brand yer memory forever." Ignoring her whimpers of protest at his temporary denial, his mouth sought hers, drinking in its softness only briefly before pausing to profess his admiration for each part of her body. "I want to taste yer release," he whispered against her throat, nipping gently at the delicate contour. Cheyenne's body shuddered at the promise of more exquisite torture. Even though she didn't understand what he meant, her pulse raced like wildfire through her veins. If it was anything like what he'd already shown her... His large hand seared a path down her abdomen to the curve of her hips. Easing himself between her legs, he wrapped his palms around her thighs as his mouth found the sensitive area behind her knee. Restraining her squirming body with a firm grasp, he began a painfully tantalizing ascent, nibbling and tasting every inch of the way. Her body began to stiffen as his warm mouth drew closer to her woman's flesh. Surely he isn't going to ... Is he? She inhaled sharply as the tip of his tongue darted out and touched her. A surprised gasp left her lips when her hips bucked upward, as though she'd been struck by lightening. With a knowing grin, he buried his face between her thighs and inflicted the most splendid torment she'd ever endured. Cheyenne's head rolled from side to side. Her breaths came in short, labored gasps. And her mind began to whirl as he slid one finger inside her and caressed her insides while he 274

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sucked on her clit, gently drawing the sensitive nub in and out of his mouth. The pressure in her lower abdomen began as a throb, but quickly grew into uncontrollable shudders. Heat spread like liquid fire through every inch of her body, setting her aflame with its rampant fury until... "Darian!" As the first orgasmic wave crashed through her insides, she cried out his name with a robust wail. But his assault didn't falter, he continued to pleasure her until she was sobbing uncontrollably with shameless bliss. Everything around her melted into nothingness as she was transported upward on the wispy clouds of ecstasy. **** Feeling as though he'd reached the boundaries of his own self-control, Darian quickly shed his clothing and rejoined her. He cradled her cheeks in his palms while his mouth moved slowly over hers, waiting patiently for her tears to subside. Although he knew she'd never be more physically ready, he wanted to make sure she was mentally prepared. That she was sure. "Cheyenne, ya have to tell me now if ya want me to stop," he warned. She shook her head vehemently. "No. Don't stop. Please." It was all the consent he needed. Understanding her overwhelming need, Darian positioned his hardened shaft against her opening. Gently, he began easing himself into her 275

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slick sheath, trying to help her body adjust to his size as painlessly as possible. When he butted against the thin piece of tissue that blocked his way into her womb, he paused. Closing his eyes, he thanked the gods Chris hadn't gotten to her first. It wasn't that he really cared about the prophecy, he just wanted to be the first one to give her such pleasure. The only one. **** As Cheyenne felt him probing against the outer boundaries of her womanhood, she knew a sudden instant of fear. Her mind panicked, bombarding her with a confusing gamut of concerns. He's too large; he won't fit. You're too small; it's going to hurt. He's taking your innocence; it's gone forever. Unknowingly, her body began to stiffen, making his entrance even harder. "Dinna fight me, lass," Darian whispered against her throat. "Open yerself to me. I promise it'll fit," he reassured, as though knowing her fear. Her innocence would always belong to him, the one man who already owned her heart and possessed her soul. What more could she ask for? Love? Perhaps her love could be enough for both of them. She'd nearly lost all to his brother. She couldn't risk it again. Readying herself for passage into womanhood, Cheyenne forced herself to relax. Willing her insides to part, she granted him entrance. 276

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The size of him was enormous, filling her completely. Inch by inch, she felt herself slowly molding around him. It felt perfect, complete, like they were made for each other. Darian's hands tangled in her hair, forcing her head forward. "Cheyenne, look at me." Cheyenne did as he said, her unfaltering gaze meeting his with trusting innocence. She could tell by his pained expression he struggled for control. And the denial of his own needs touched her heart. "I have to break through yer maidenhead. It's gonna hurt, but it willna last." Cheyenne nodded her head. She knew what he meant. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the inevitable pain. Darian slid her hands up to rest on the bed, one on either side of her face. Then he gently laced their fingers, capturing her palms within his. His mouth came down over hers, tantalizing her lips in a slow, drugging kiss. Although she'd heard the first entrance was uncomfortable, Cheyenne was unprepared for the searing pain that tore through her insides when he flexed his hips, thrusting himself fully inside of her and piercing the delicate flesh of her virtue. She screamed against his mouth when he breached her barrier, driving his shaft to the hilt. Failing to restrain her shock, a new onslaught of fresh tears found their way to her cheeks. Darian froze when he heard the heart-wrenching pain in her cry and felt the violent jolt of her insides. "Cheyenne?" 277

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His alarm apparently heightened when she didn't answer. "I'm sorry, lass. I didn't want to hurt ya, but it couldn't be helped. The pain will subside, I promise." Then he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and patiently waited for her discomfort to abate. Cheyenne slowly nodded her head. It felt as though he'd ripped her in two, opened her womb like a doorway. But the burning had begun to fade. He was fully within her now; their bodies molded into one flesh. "Wrap yer legs around my waist," he commanded hoarsely. Cheyenne did as he said. She let out a surprised gasp when she felt how much deeper it made his penetration. If it were possible for one human being to climb inside another and become part of their essence, then Darian had done just that. It was as if he were stroking her soul. As his body began moving within her, sliding the entire length of him in and out, Cheyenne noticed the painful ache was replaced with a pulsating throb. As it had before, the sensation intensified, becoming like molten lava coursing through her veins and spreading heat to every inch of her being. Her hands transgressed the planes of his muscled back and traveled down to his thrusting hips where her fingers molded around his buttocks and encouraged him to push faster, deeper. Her thighs bucked upward, meeting his growing urgency with their own matched frenzy. She moaned with pleasure as her insides began to sing, blending together like the sweet music of an orchestra. Every 278

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nerve, every muscle, every fiber chanted in unison, steadily climbing to a dramatic crescendo and explosive finale. Instinctively, Cheyenne's body arched toward him as the sensation in her lower abdomen erupted into fierce vibrations that racked her insides. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cried out his name as a million glowing stars burst behind her closed lids. Her world careened on its axis and she was hurtled into a whirlwind of ecstasy that left her gasping for air. **** When Darian heard her climax and felt her body convulse around him, he promptly sought his own release. Thrusting with fevered urgency, he approached the borders of Eden. Feeling his muscles stiffen in preparation, he closed his eyes and exploded inside of her. Her name was torn from his lips as he shuddered with an orgasm that rocked him to the core. His energy spent, Darian collapsed on top of her. He inhaled in deep, soul-drenching drafts as pain in his lower abdomen slowly drew him out of his orgasmic bliss. Knowing he'd probably re-injured himself, he carefully rolled off of Cheyenne and drew the blanket over his lower body. Pulling her to snuggle beside him, he cradled her against his moist flesh. **** Cheyenne lay quiet for a long time, enjoying the contentment and peace that flowed between them. It was if 279

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their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another, and she feared any movement would break the spell. At that moment, the prophecy didn't matter. It was just him and her in their own little galaxy. She wished it could last forever. But she knew, sooner or later, the reality surrounding them would invade their solitude. Slipping her arm under the blanket, she slowly slid it across his firm abdomen toward the opposite side of his waist. When her fingers contacted a sticky fluid, Cheyenne jerked her hand back. She instantly sat up and yanked the blanket from his hips. Her eyes scanned the lower left quadrant of his torso, quickly spotting what she'd feared. He's bleeding again. Blood oozed in a steady stream from a tear in his sutures. "Oh my God! Darian, why didn't you tell me you were hurting? We shouldn't have ... It was too soon." Jumping up from the bed, Cheyenne raced to the washbasin to get some water and towels, and then back to his side. With adept and gentle hands, she removed the old bandage and began cleaning his wound. "It's just a small tear. A pressure dressing should do. I don't think it needs more stitching." She glanced up at his handsome features, making sure she wasn't hurting him too much. Darian carefully watched her face as she made over him. His firm lips were curled into an amused grin and he seemed to be struggling to maintain his composure and not bust out laughing as she mumbled about what an asinine dolt he was 280

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and how pig-headed and idiotic he'd been to come to her before he'd sufficiently healed. Irritated by his good humor, Cheyenne paused over her work. "What's so funny?" Doesn't he realize how serious his injury is? "If I'm nae mistaken," he began smugly. "I'd say yer enjoyin' yerself." "No," Cheyenne corrected, noticing his member had begun to swell. "I'd say you are. Don't be getting any ideas." She wagged a finger under his nose. "I think you've had enough excitement for one night." Darian groaned and collapsed back onto the pillows. "Throw a morsel to a starvin' mon." Cheyenne snorted and continued dressing his wound. Not quite satisfied the bleeding had subsided, she took another cloth and folded it into a small square, then she placed it over his sutures and pressed firmly. Darian let out a yelp of protest. "Easy, woman! I'd swear ya was tryin' to kill me!" Cheyenne was about to tell him to quit being such a baby when she noticed fresh drops of sweat beaded his brow. Realizing she was being a little too harsh, she lessened the force. "Sorry." After a few minutes, she cautiously lifted her hand to make sure the bleeding had stopped. Then she wrapped a long strip of material around his hips and tied it securely over the makeshift bandages to hold them in place. 281

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"We'll need to go back to the infirmary later, so I can rebandage it right." Darian frowned at her suggestion. "Nay. I dinna want ya anywhere near my brother. I'll have someone brin' the supplies ya need." "Don't be silly. It would be much easier if—" "Cheyenne," he warned in a stern voice. "I mean it. There's no tellin' where Chris is lurkin'. Now that he's up an' about, I dinna want ya out of my sight. I almost lost ya once. I willna chance it again. Do ya understand?" Cheyenne didn't like the possessive tone of his voice. "I don't think you have to worry, you've already taken what he wanted. He probably won't be interested anymore," she shot back curtly. Darian flinched at the harshness of her words. Knowing she'd just hurt his feelings, Cheyenne turned away. She didn't mean to make it sound like he'd forced himself on her. She had invited him in her bed. And he'd given her the opportunity to change her mind even up at the last minute. When she started to get up, his hand shot out and captured her wrist with a firm grasp. "Nay! Dinna run from me, lass. I can't chase after ya, an' that's nae fair. We're gonna finish this conversation first." Cheyenne looked back at the determined set of his face, the pursed lips, drawn brows, and fixed eyes. With a deflated huff, she wrenched free of his grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. "So let's finish it." 282

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Darian inhaled deeply and then let the air slip through his lips in a long, purposeful sigh. "I'm sorry I doubted ya before, about Gavin. It's just that..." He ran a hand though his hair. Cheyenne could hear the anguish in his voice as he struggled with distrust. Even though he was a strong, proud man, she knew he could be hurt both physically and mentally. And he had been. She also knew there was sincerity in his actions and substance to the desire he'd shown just moments before. It hadn't been an act to get what he wanted. No one could pretend that well. He could deny it all he wanted, refuse to say it, make believe it didn't exist, avoid the truth, but it didn't matter. She knew he felt something. Maybe not what she ultimately hoped for, but it was a start. Unable to withstand his torment, she silenced him with a soft finger against his lips. "Shhh ... I know about Serena. I know what she did to you. That's not me, Darian. The incident with Gavin was, quite simply put, mere stupidity. I was so consumed with anger. I wanted to hurt you, make you feel some of the wretchedness I was feeling. It was a mistake. I never should have..." She looked away from him, unable to face his piercing gaze as she opened her heart and poured out all the emotions she felt. "I was so jealous when I thought you and Serena were ... I mean, I kept hearing all the guards talk about how much time she was spending in there. And that she was ... entertaining both of you." 283

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Cheyenne got up from the bed and walked a few feet away. She wrung her hands together, guilt and shame making her all the more aware of how ridiculous she'd behaved. What must Gavin think of her? He probably hated her. At least he'd had the clemency to not make her go through with her reckless offer, even though, by all rights, he could have. "I was just so..." She let out a frustrated groan as she realized the only way to make him understand was to come clean with her feelings. "I couldn't even see straight. I wanted to rip all the lovely hair out of Serena's head and slap that disgustingly seductive smile off her pretty face. I've never hurt anyone in my life, but I'd have beat the hell out of her if I'd caught her with you." Falling silent, Cheyenne glanced at Darian's somber face. His expression was closed, unreadable. Either she'd just inflated his already enormous ego, or her words had touched something deep within him. She sighed heavily, knowing there was still one more confession to make before she was finished. "I was careless when I challenged Gavin to ... I really didn't mean for him to take it literally." Cheyenne shrugged. "I was just so furious because the only thing everyone seems to care about is this silly prophecy and who's going to father my baby." She looked up at the ceiling, momentarily studying the beautiful mural painted on its smooth, unmarred surface. Funny, she hadn't noticed that before. 284

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"I was angry at you because I didn't want to believe you only cared about taking my virginity before Chris, or that your real interest in me was only in siring this child I'm supposed to have. I wanted to believe that..." Cheyenne groaned. "Ah hell, I don't know what I wanted to believe. But whatever it was, it obviously wasn't the truth. I guess I felt like I could get even with you for sleeping with Serena by—" "Sleepin' with Gavin." Cheyenne slowly nodded her head. Although it had seemed logical at the time, she now realized how foolish and unfair it had been to everyone involved. Even herself. "Do you think Gavin will ever forgive me? I don't want him to believe that I'm like ... that I'm a..." Her voice trailed off as overwhelming guilt and shame assailed her again. **** Darian couldn't stand her own self-inflicted punishment. It was obvious she deeply regretted her actions and would probably never do anything so idiotic again. He was actually glad she'd chosen Gavin to behave so foolishly with. Any other man would have seen her through her reckless challenge, willing or not. He knew she wasn't like Serena. He'd known that from the beginning. Even though his heart wouldn't allow complete trust in anyone, he did believe she was honest, and a good person. Holding out his hand, he beckoned for her to sit beside him. 285

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Cheyenne mutely agreed and slowly shuffled over to the bedside. She sat down lightly, her body rigid and stiff. She remained perched on the edge like an elegant statue, seemingly afraid to move, afraid to breathe, lest she fall off and shatter. "Gavin isn't upset with ya," Darian confessed. "Actually, he's more angry with 'imself." Cheyenne looked at him, her eyes filling with confusion. "How—" Darian held up a hand to silence her. "He told me what happened before I came up here. Actually, he told me a few other thin's too, about Serena. So needless to say, I was overwhelmed. I took my anger out on you. 'Twas unfair." He sighed, feeling weary from the day's events. "I needed to hear yer version of the story before I could believe naught had happened. Although Gavin made it sound a wee more like he'd forced 'imself on ya, I imagine it was his way of ensurin' I took my fury out on him, an' nae you." "Are you ... mad at me?" Her bottom lip quivered as if she were cold. **** The smile in his eyes contained a mischievous flicker and his mouth curled into an irresistible grin. "Well," he began nonchalantly. "I believe we need to come up with some sort of justifiable punishment, fer both of ya. I'd say Gavin's will be cleanin' out the harse stalls once we get back to Andreas Castle." 286

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Cheyenne wrinkled up her nose in disgust. Was he going to make her do the same? She could just imagine Gavin and her, side by side, shoveling horse dung! What a horrible punishment. He'll probably hate me for life! "But I think, since ya like usin' yer womanly wiles to force poor helpless men to their knees an' make 'em do yer biddin', that yer punishment will have to be more creative." His eyes danced with sparks of naughtiness. Cheyenne was shocked by his abrasive description of her. "I didn't—" Her protest died instantly when he took hold of her hand and guided it down his abdomen. She watched, mesmerized by the feel of his muscled flesh beneath her palm, as first her fingers and then her wrist disappeared under the edge of the coverlet. When her fingertips came into contact with his hardened shaft, she jerked her arm back as though she'd been burned. But he held her wrist firmly, preventing her from pulling completely away. "If I can't touch you, then I want you to touch me," he whispered, his voice husky and laced with desire. Cheyenne let him guide her hand back down again. But this time, when she contacted the velvety soft flesh of his manhood, she didn't pull away. Instead, she instinctively wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at how large he was. He filled her palm completely, and she understood why it had hurt so much when he'd entered her before. 287

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Although she was grossly unsure of how to pleasure him, she tried her best by stroking the length of his rod and caressing the surprisingly soft skin that covered it. After a few minutes of awkwardness, he gently showed her what he wanted. Quickly picking up on the motion he desired, Cheyenne eagerly brushed his fingers away and began an innocent but thorough assault on his swollen member. She couldn't help but love the sense of power she had over him as she heard his sharp intake of air and felt the muscles in his thighs tighten with anticipation. She was disappointed when his hand suddenly stilled hers. Even with her limited knowledge, Cheyenne knew he'd been about to climax. She wondered why he'd stopped her. "Was that my punishment?" Her voice sounded strangely husky, even to her own ears. Darian leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His mouth was slightly open and Cheyenne could hear his heavy breaths as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. After several long moments, she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep. "Well?" Darian's eyes snapped open. The pupils were dilated. And Cheyenne could see the reborn desire swirling in their depths when he pierced her with a lusty stare. "Nay. 'Twas more torturous fer me," he replied hoarsely. "I think yer punishment will come when I'm more fully able to deal it out. But I do know what would make me really happy right now." One of her brows rose with question. "And what's that?" 288

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A wicked smile lifted the corners of his sensual mouth. She wasn't too surprised when he pulled the covers back to reveal his persistent erection and motioned for her to climb on top. With eager curiosity, she positioned herself above him. Who am I to argue? "I think you'll like it this way." Grasping her hips, he coaxed her downward, easing himself inside her. Cheyenne met his gaze with a shy smile. Other than some initial discomfort, there was virtually no pain this time as her body eagerly opened to accommodate him. Taking care not to re-injure him, they spent the entire night in each other's arms, driving one another over reality's edge and into a world filled with only them and the intense pleasure they could provide for each other.

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CHAPTER 23 Cheyenne woke up late the next morning feeling satisfied and complete. She stretched like a lazy cat, stiffening her legs and reaching above her head. Without opening her eyes, she felt for Darian. Her momentary state of bliss turned to disappointment when her hands contacted a cold, lonely pillow. A quick assessment of the room confirmed she was completely alone. Her previous feelings of security and reassurance slowly edged toward uncertainty and doubt. Trying to ward off any negativity, as one might a nasty cold, she refused to let herself be swayed into believing Darian's absence was anything to worry about. Throwing the covers back, she jumped up from the bed and stretched again. She ached from head to foot and a dull pain throbbed between her legs. It reminded her of riding Darian's horse all day. Only I rode him all night! She chided herself for such brazen ideas, then rolled her eyes and giggled. I've been corrupted. When her gaze fell to the bloodstained sheets, Cheyenne gasped with embarrassed. She knew the crimson smears not only belonged to Darian, but her as well. Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she thought about the servants coming in to clean the room and discovering her lost innocence, she 290

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quickly balled up the evidence and hid it under the bed. Hopefully, she'd be long gone before anyone found it. Using the cold water in the washbasin, she cleaned her legs and inner thighs. Then she searched the closet and found a fresh chemise and dress. Slipping the garments over her head, she quickly straightened them, not really caring if they were adjusted properly or not. She loosely ran her fingers through her long tresses to comb out some of the tangles, and then glanced in the tarnished mirror on the washstand. Although far from being perfect, she had to admit there was a definite glow to her cheeks. Cheyenne rushed to the door, threw it open, and stepped out into the hall. At first, she didn't see anyone. But then she spotted Thor. He was just rounding the corner. "Thor, wait!" She quickly closed the distance between them. "Where's Darian? When he wasn't..." She stopped, her face flaming as she realized she'd just about told him Darian had spent the night in her room. "He's in the meetin' hall with Chris, discussin' the terms of their truce." Thor regarded her flushed cheeks with drawn brows. He looked about to say something, then clamped his mouth shut, apparently thinking better of it. Cheyenne sighed with relief. "Can you show me how to get—" Before she could even get the words out, Thor was shaking his head. "Ya probably dinna want to go doon there. Willna be pleasant." 291

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"I don't care," Cheyenne refuted. "I'm going doon there one way or another." With shoulders squared, chin lifted, and hands on hips, she exuded an air of determination. Thor regarded the stubborn set of her jaw. Then he shook his head with refusal once again. "I dinna think that's a good—" "It involves me, so I have a right to be there." Cheyenne stomped her foot. Thor scowled at her a long moment, then threw up his hands in surrender. "Suit yerself," he huffed. "Come on, I'll take ya doon. Dinna want ya travelin' the halls alone. Wouldn't be safe." "Thank you," she replied softly. Cheyenne followed Thor down the long winding stairwell, past the infirmary, and down another lengthy hallway. They were just approaching the meeting hall when the sound of voices caused her step to falter. It was Darian and Chris, and they were involved in a heated discussion. Looking at Thor with pleading eyes, Cheyenne begged him to be quiet and not alert them to their presence. Although she could tell he disagreed with the notion of eavesdropping, he reluctantly obliged. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the far wall and stared off in the other direction, pretending to ignore the argument. Cheyenne inched closer to the door, wanting to be sure she could hear the exact words floating to her ears and from whom they were spoken. Her body began to stiffen in anger as she listened to the ongoing dispute. They were acting as though she were merely some pawn in their game. 292

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Do either one of them happen to realize I'm a human being with real feelings? "Ya can't claim the lass belongs to you just because you found 'er. Nae with the outstandin' circumstances involved," Chris declared. "Why?" Darian challenged. "Because, nae just any mon can claim the right to sire the bairn. If ya simply take 'er fer yerself, it would be like changin' destiny," Chris argued. But Darian was not to be daunted. "The prophecy says naught of the father, only the mother. It's obvious Cheyenne is the chosen one. There'll be a great leader born of 'er, regardless of the sire," he shot back. "Ya've read the prophecy?" Chris's voice was tainted with disbelief. A lengthy silence followed before Darian finally replied. "Nay." "Then I challenge ya fer the right to sire the bairn." Chris's demand echoed through the room. "On what grounds? She was in my possession first. She belongs to me. Besides, how do ya know 'twas nae destiny which placed 'er in my path?" Darian retorted hotly. "The law states—" "To Hades with the law!" Darian's anger boomed through the hall like the rumble of thunder. "She's mine an' ya can't have 'er!" "Ya haven't taken 'er maidenhead. Hence, she's fair game to anyone who disputes ya," Chris persisted triumphantly. 293

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Darian's sarcastic laugh was loud and clear. "Ahh ... but yer wrong. I took it last night." The cold, ruthless tone of his voice made Cheyenne stumble back a step. She couldn't believe what Darian had just said. Turning tear-filled eyes to Thor, she prayed he hadn't heard it, too. But the pinched look on his face told her he had. She nearly jumped out of her skin when an outraged cry followed by a loud crash sang through the air. Drawing his sword, Thor shoved her aside and rushed into the room to separate the two brawling brothers who were locked in battle upon the wooden floor. Cheyenne quietly stood in the open doorway as she watched him yank Darian off Chris and hold them both at arms' length. "Alhte! Both of ya," Thor barked. "Chris, ya've heard the news. Loud as you two bellow, damn near everyone in the castle knows. Darian has taken 'er to his bed. It's done." Chris yanked free of Thor's grasp when his gaze fell to Cheyenne's trembling form. Even from across the room, she could see the angry muscles working in his jaw. His eyes filled with contempt and he looked upon her as though she'd committed some atrocious crime. His expression curled into an unpleasant snarl. "Couldn't keep yer legs closed, could ya? Yer no better than a common whore. Good fer naught but a quick fu—" The words were knocked from his lips as Darian broke free of Thor's restraining hands and firmly planted his fist in Chris's mouth. Chris fell backward, landing on the floor with a heavy thud. 294

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Normally, Cheyenne would have come back with her own witty retort to Chris's callous description of her virtue, but at that moment, it really didn't matter. Nothing did. She was so stunned by Darian's betrayal, she merely stared back, motionless and silent. "I dinna believe ya," Chris challenged, holding his injured leg and pulling himself to his feet with obvious difficulty. "How do I know if what ya speak is the truth? Without checkin' fer m'self..." He shot Cheyenne a wicked grin that turned into a repulsive smile when he saw her shocked response to his heinous suggestion. Then Darian added further insult to injury. "The sheets are still on the bed. Go look fer yerself. 'Tis virgin blood that stains 'em." Cheyenne felt the color rise in her cheeks as all three men stared at her. Chris regarded her with an expression of scorn. Thor's gaze shifted with awkwardness. And Darian looked at her with little more than dismissal. Something began to wither inside her soul as she slowly backed out of the room. She didn't know what was worse, the embarrassed shame she felt for giving into Darian, or the cold, expressionless eyes he cast upon her. "I went into 'er several times. 'Tis a good chance my seed has rooted 'er womb," Darian declared coolly, almost as though he were proud of his accomplishment. "He speaks the truth?" Chris took a threatening step toward her. "Ya let 'im into yer bed? Nay! Ya welcomed 'im!" His allegations bounced off the surrounding walls and reverberated down the hallway with a scolding echo. 295

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"I..." Cheyenne's mouth opened to protest, but words were lost to her as she realized there was no disputing his claim. He was right. She'd not only let Darian in, she'd encouraged him, almost begged him even. She was just about to take her leave when Chris's next words riveted her to the spot. "It matters nae. Unless a babe grows in 'er belly, I've the right to claim 'er. I propose we have 'er sent to the summer cottage. Marge shall accompany 'er. There she'll be kept out of yer bed fer thirty nights, enough time to pass fer 'er womanly flow to occur. If she's been implanted with yer filthy spawn, then she's yers. If nae, then you'll accept my challenge with the winner takin' the spoils." Darian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "An' if I refuse?" "Then I'll see to it every Lord an' High Rankin' Official knows of 'er existence. You'll nae only have me to contend with, but every other hot-blooded Lord on this planet who wishes to claim his right, Ramekah included. It's yer choice, bro. Either accept my challenge or..." Chris shrugged with indifference. **** Darian's vision clouded with fury. His brother had outsmarted him. There was no way he could refuse, not unless he wanted to risk losing Cheyenne to someone else. Most of the other Lords wouldn't offer much of a challenge. But Ramekah was a different story. Nay, I willna chance it. 296

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Darian knew he'd already pierced Cheyenne with his cruel words. Although he didn't mean them the way they sounded, it was obvious he'd hurt her deeply. But before he could make amends, he had to get things settled with his brother. He'd planned on returning home today, and leaving without her was not an option. Throwing his hands up in defeat, he nodded his head in agreement and stormed toward the door. **** As Darian approached, Cheyenne was drawn from her nightmarish trance. He'd lied to her, betrayed her, used her. And worst of all, broken her heart. Not wanting to be anywhere near him, she turned and fled down the corridor. She ran blindly through the halls, not knowing where she was going and not really caring. All she could think of was getting out. She searched frantically for an exit, but every turn seemed to draw her deeper into the bowels of the castle. As she ran down yet another long, deserted passage, she felt fear creeping up her spine. She was lost. There were no windows, no doorways, no people, just narrow halls and sharp turns. Even the lighting began to dwindle. The sconces, which hung every few feet down the more heavily traveled hallways, were now fewer and further in between. Eerie echoes and lengthening shadows haunted her steps. Feeling along the wall for balance, she willed herself to remain calm. Surely there's a way out of this crazy labyrinth. She forced herself onward. 297

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The minutes ticked by painstakingly slow. Her footsteps began to falter as she debated on turning around. But she couldn't remember how to get back. She'd always had a poor sense of direction, and with little light, the chances of retracing her course were slim to none. Her fear turned to stark white panic as she heard approaching voices. Although the stony walls surrounding her muffled and distorted the sound, making it nearly impossible to tell from which direction they came, she was almost certain the men weren't from Darian's lot. They wouldn't be traveling these halls where an ambush could be waiting around any corner. And neither should I. She suddenly realized the folly of her actions with a sinking of despair. Knowing what would happen if she were caught alone, Cheyenne began to run. She turned down several more hallways in her frantic race, praying the men hadn't heard her. Feeling like a scared mouse in some large, synthetic maze, she nearly fainted when she rounded a sharp corner and ran straight into Gavin. Just as startled as she, he let out a surprised yelp. "God's teeth, woman. Are ya tryin' to scare the life out of me?" Gavin snaked his arm around her back and held her against him to settle her balance. Then he lifted his torch. Seeing the obvious look of terror plastered on her face, he instantly became alarmed. "Cheyenne, what're ya doin' doon here? Who're ya runnin' from?" 298

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Cheyenne's mouth moved in semblance of speech, but no words came forth as overwhelming dread closed off her throat. Unshed tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. Fearing Gavin would simply return her to Darian, she tried to pull away. "Let me go," she begged when he held fast, refusing to release her. "Please, don't send me back to him. I just want to go home. I don't want to be here anymore. Please..." The last of her defiant energy dissipated and Cheyenne broke down into heart-wrenching sobs. Awkwardly holding her against his chest, Gavin patiently waited for her to vent her anguish before trying to find out what was going on. As her tears finally subsided into bubbly hiccups, he gently pushed her away and held her at arms' length. "Tell me what's happened. Did Darian—" "Darian, Chris, everyone! It's this whole place. Everyone treats me like I'm some sort of inanimate object, some prize to be won by the most persistent champion. I've had it! I just want everyone to leave me alone." Her eyes filled with fresh tears and a tiny sob escaped her lips. Seemingly fearing another emotional discharge, Gavin quickly tried to calm her down. "Shh ... It's all right." Then he patted her shoulder in an attempt at reassurance. "We'll get it all worked out. Did Darian come to ya last night?" Cheyenne stared blankly at him a moment, wondering how he knew. Then she remembered Darian saying Gavin had sent him. Her anguish suddenly turned into fiery outrage and she launched herself at him, pounding his chest with her fists. 299

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"Yes! Why'd you send him? Why? Don't you see what you've done?" As though trying to make sense of her apparent distress, Gavin gently took hold of her wrists and halted her pummeling hands. "Cheyenne, I dinna understand. Ya wanted 'im, nay? What's wrong with that?" Wrenching free of his grasp, Cheyenne wiped a few renegade tears from her cheeks and sniffed noisily. "He doesn't care about me. All he cares about is this stupid prophecy and besting his brother." Gavin's features contorted with disbelief. "That's hokum. He doesn't give a damn about the prophecy. Ya should have seen his face last night when I told 'im ... I know Darian cares fer ya. When ya came up missin' from Brigette's, he was like a madman. He couldn't get here fast enough." Cheyenne crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll bet! He wanted to make sure Chris didn't talk me into his bed first." "What? Nay, lass. He was worried about 'im rapin' ya. An' from the manner in which I found ya, it's obvious 'e was right." Gavin gently grasped her by both shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze. "Look, I dinna ken who told ya this, but it's hokum." She leveled him with a cold stare. "I heard it from his own lips!" Stunned by her accusation, Gavin dropped his hands and stumbled back a step. "What?" Cheyenne felt another sob working its way to the back of her throat. Trying to keep from breaking down again, she 300

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looked away and willed herself not to cry. "Darian said as much himself. I overheard Chris and him arguing in the meeting hall. Darian's only interest in me is to sire this so called miracle child. He has no other feelings." Her voice was barely audible. **** "Are ya ... certain?" Genuinely confused, Gavin's words were hesitant. Surely she's mistaken. If Darian said that, there's a good reason fer it. Unless he's fooled us all. Cheyenne's head snapped up. Disbelief contorted her lovely features. Her tiny body seemed to be vibrating with mounting fury, and the line of her smooth jaw tightened a fraction. "They were arguing over the right to claim me," she insisted. "In so many words, Chris commented about my virginity making me fair game for anyone. Darian's reply was he'd taken it already, and that Chris could go look at the sheets if he needed proof! How much more clear does it need to be?" Gavin nearly choked on his own shock as she repeated the callous interpretation. Surely Darian hadn't meant it that way. He refused to believe his Lord so cruel. Nay, he was tryin' to dissuade his brother. "Cheyenne, I dinna think Darian would have said those thin's if he'd known ya was there. Mayhap 'e was only tryin' to—" 301

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"I was standing in plain sight when he further went on to explain that since he and I had ... several times, that he'd probably already planted his seed in my womb so there was no need for Chris to pursue his claim." Her teeth were clenched with fury and unshed tears swam in her beautiful eyes, making them sparkle like two purple pools of water beneath a moonlight glow. Gavin shook his head. "Nay. There's reason fer those words. An' it's nae what it appears. I assure ya, Darian loves ya more than the very air 'e breathes." Cheyenne eyes narrowed and her fists knotted into balls at her sides. "He has a funny way of showing it. Where I come from, you treat each other with respect, not like possessions. I have no interest in being in a place that believes a woman's only value is in the sack. Sorry, but I'm leaving." As she went to step past him, Gavin grabbed a hold of her forearm. "Cheyenne, I can't let ya leave. Besides, ya shouldn't be traipsin' around the castle alone. It's nae safe. Let me take ya back to yer room. Then I'll find Darian an' we'll resolve this mess." She tried to jerk free of his grasp. "No! I don't want to be anywhere near that man. I'm not going to some summerhouse for the next month while they wait and see if I'm pregnant. I'm not!" Gavin held her even tighter. "What?" He didn't know what manner of absurdity she spoke of now, but he couldn't imagine Darian agreeing to something so absurd. Cheyenne continued to struggle. "Are you going to let me go?" She wrenched her arm, trying to yank free. 302

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"Nay!" Gavin was trying to be patient, but her insistent rebellion was starting to wear thin on his tolerance. He squeezed her arm until she cried out in protest and stopped struggling. "Now, who's sendin' ya to the summer cottage?" "Darian." Cheyenne spat his name as though the very word filled her mouth with rancor. Before Gavin could dispute her claim, two armsmen appeared around the corner. "Bless the gods, ya found 'er." The man eyed Cheyenne with relief. "Lord Andreas will be pleased." "I'll notify the others." His companion slipped back into the darkness. The remaining guard returned his attention to Gavin. "She's to be taken to the courtyard. A carriage awaits." Cheyenne shot him an I told you so look. "Where am I going?" "To the Andreas cottage, in Zahon Forest. You'll be accompanied by Marge," the guard replied. "You see! I told you. I'm not going!" Cheyenne renewed her resistance. At an end with her persistent defiance, Gavin squeezed her arm once again. "Be still, lass!" His tone was a growl of warning. "Surely Darian doesn't trust Chris nae to—" He could believe his Lord would be so foolish. "Two men-at-arms will accompany the women," the guard cut in. "One from Lord Andreas's lot, an' one from his brother's." 303

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Gavin had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Who?" he choked out. The guard cast his eyes downward, his uneasiness at being the one to break the news apparent in his nervous stance. "You." Although his response was scarcely a whisper, the condemning answer seemed to bellow through the empty passages. Gavin groaned. Is this Darian's idea of punishment fer what I done last night? He was almost afraid to ask the next question that instantly popped in his head. "An'?" The guard shifted from foot to foot before taking an unsteady step backward. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, he finally answered. "Brine." Cheyenne cringed when Gavin slammed his fist into the stone wall beside her. Letting go of her arm, he angrily paced back and forth across the narrow passageway. Then he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "This is insane!" Cheyenne flinched again. After several turns, he stopped before the cowering guard. "Is 'e barmy? I can't be anywhere near Brine without wantin' to choke the very life out of 'im. How does 'e expect me to control m'self fer thirty dawns?" The guard glanced nervously at Cheyenne. "I ... I dinna ken," he stammered, taking another step back. "'Twas nae Darian's idea." 304

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Suddenly, Gavin understood. Chris had probably thrown that requirement in, just to add a little more excitement to the already ridiculous scenario. He wondered if it had been at Brine's suggestion. Not only had Darian agreed to place him in a very hightension situation, he'd also managed to make his punishment nearly unbearable. He would be forced to be with Cheyenne day in and day out, with only his conscience as a chaperone. Had Darian agreed to Chris's crazy demands in order to test his loyalty? Realizing there was nothing he could do to change the impending misery he was sure to endure for the next few weeks, Gavin sighed with defeat and walked purposely toward Cheyenne. "Let's go." **** His voice was flat and emotionless, and the lack of compassion chilled her to the bone. Cheyenne didn't understand why he was taking out his unhappiness on her; she certainly didn't want to be in close quarters with him any more than he did with her. It just wasn't a good idea—not with their recent more than platonic encounter. Seeing the intent in his cold gaze, Cheyenne darted to the side, trying to avoid his grasp. She shrieked when he lunged for her. "No! I'm not going!" "Aye, ya are," Gavin responded, effortlessly hefting her over his shoulder. Cheyenne struggled to no avail as he strode down the hallway with her in tow. Accepting the fact that he was going 305

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to return her to Darian regardless of how much she pleaded or begged, she resigned herself to the impending fate. "At least let me walk," she protested. "This isn't exactly a comfortable way to be carried." Gavin stopped and set her feet on the floor. "Dinna even think about runnin'," he warned, fixing her with a harsh glare. "I'm nae in the mood fer a chase." Cheyenne dropped her eyes before his stern gaze and mutely nodded her head in compliance. What good would it do her anyway? Darian and Chris intended to have their way regardless of her wishes, and they had the manpower to enforce it. As she silently followed along behind Gavin, Cheyenne began to wonder if there might be a way to escape once they reached the cottage. Since there would only be three other people to restrain her... Well, actually two, she couldn't see Marge being much of an opponent. Surely she could come up with some means of eluding the two men. They'll probably be more involved with their hatred for each other than paying attention to me. Cheyenne thoughtfully smiled to herself. Perhaps this little trip was going to be her deliverance. She'd go to the cottage without a fuss. And when Gavin and Brine weren't paying attention, she'd simply slip away.

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CHAPTER 24 Cheyenne had never been so happy to see a solid structure as she was when they finally arrived at the Andreas summer cottage. After two stress-filled days and nights of travel, she was thankful to reach their destination. The last forty-eight hours had been packed with nothing less than nerve-wracking anxiety and mounting tension. She wasn't sure how long Gavin and Brine could maintain their civility. She blinked in astonishment as Marge ushered her out of the carriage and toward the enormous mansion. This is a summer cottage? She was shocked by the massive structure before her. It looks like a small castle! Cheyenne stared in awe at the huge stony pillars standing proud and erect before the immense oak entrance. Painstakingly detailed, lattice-like shutters that looked as though they were forged from heavy black iron adorned the windows and doorway, giving it a rustic yet charming touch. "Wow!" In the middle of each shutter was a large and distinct letter A. Cheyenne imagined only a very creative and talented blacksmith could have designed the unique adornments. Then a strange thought entered her mind. It was as if this world were parallel to her own, yet lagged behind in development by several centuries. Like a sister-planet or something. She supposed it was possible. 307

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A thick vine climbed up the walls and wound itself around the huge pillars guarding the doorway. It was covered with a multitude of purple and fuchsia blossom, lush and thick, and bursting with fragrance. Waxy green leaves the size of saucers cradled each bloom as though protecting a treasure. Cheyenne couldn't help but feel drawn to its enchanting beauty. Her curiosity intrigued, she eagerly began studying her milieu, cheerfully noticing the kaleidoscope of colorful plants and flowering trees surrounding them from all sides. It was like standing in the middle of some child-like fantasy at the gates of a mystical palace. My own Cinderella story. Only ... without the happy ending. Sure, she'd seen places like this in magazines devoted to divulging the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Celebrities, certainly not anyone as plain and mediocre as herself. But she'd never hoped to actually witness such splendor in person. Not without paying a pretty penny anyhow. But then again, perhaps she had. Her lodging had cost her something priceless. Determined not to allow the reality of her circumstances dull her pleasant mood, she returned her attention to the ocean of wildflowers beckoning her to follow its calming waves into mental serenity and reassuring peace. Dwelling on her hurt and unhappiness wasn't going to change anything. She might as well try to make the best of things until she could devise a means of escape. 308

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Cheyenne clasped her hands beneath her chin and smiled with delight as she took in the mesmerizing waltz of nature before her. Dainty butterflies danced from one place to another, gliding here and there in a magnificent ballet of flight. Some entwined together like two lovers embraced in a passionate tango. Others performed solo, their unitary bliss just as apparent in their carefree sways. And tiny birds of every color flitted from blossom to blossom, trying desperately to catch the elusive bugs for their midday meal. Cheyenne knew she probably looked like a fool, standing there with her eyes bugging out of her head and her mouth gaping open. But this was the most romantic, tranquil, and marvelous place she'd ever laid eyes on. Too bad the circumstances of my visit couldn't be different. "Come along, lass. There's much work to be done on the inside." Marge gently shoved her forward. "This ol' place hasn't been opened in several passes. I daresay, there's no tellin' what we'll find in there." Taking a large brass key from her pocket, Marge unlocked the door. With Gavin's assistance, she pulled on the thick handle, easing the reluctant barrier open inch by inch. When the rebellious hinges finally gave, allowing the heavy wood doors to swing wide, Cheyenne was instantly greeted with a nauseatingly stale odor. "Oh, yuck!" She clamped her palm over her mouth and pinched her nose closed against the invading stench. Undaunted by the overwhelming aroma, Marge marched through the doorway, mumbling something about opening the windows. 309

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"We'll wait out here," Gavin commented, dropping a load of staples onto the walkway beside her feet. Cheyenne stared after him as he strode back to the carriage for another armload. She also noticed Brine casually lounging against a tree, seemingly with no intention of helping to carry in their food and supplies. Unfortunately, so did Gavin. "Are ya gonna loaf around whilst I break my back carryin' all this stuff?" The annoyance in Gavin's tone was apparent. Cheyenne felt the hairs rise on her arm. Oh crap! Here it comes! Brine shrugged with indifference. "Yer doin' such a fine job," he retorted snidely, then turned away as though to dismiss him. Even before Gavin reacted, Cheyenne knew his final ounce of self-restraint would burst. Uttering a loud curse, he dropped the large trunk he'd just slid from the back of the carriage onto the ground. Female clothes and various other trinkets spilled free. Then he withdrew his sword and stormed toward Brine. "I think we should finish this thin' right now!" Brine was instantly up for the challenge. Unsheathing his own blade, he pasted a wicked grin on his whisker-roughened face and motioned with a beckoning of his hand for Gavin to take his best shot. "Come on, ya wee bonnie laddie. Let's see what ya got." Knowing both men were at their limit for civility, Cheyenne rushed down the walkway toward them. "Stop it! Both of you!" Her own patience was about to snap. 310

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She was quickly tiring of having to play peacemaker. If she weren't sure one would likely end up losing more than his ridiculous male pride, she'd tell them to go ahead and have it out. Throwing herself between them, she placed a restraining hand on both their chests and pleaded with them to calm down. "I don't want to be here any more than either of you. But here we are, so let's just make the best of it and try to get along. Hopefully, it won't be for very long." Brine's features suddenly turned suspiciously complacent. His lips curled into a taunting grin as he re-sheathed his sword and took a step backward. "Well now, we wouldn't be here in the first place if ya'd kept those wee thighs of yers closed, would we?" Unable to stand the contempt mirrored in his cold, dark eyes, Cheyenne slapped him. Expecting instant retaliation, she raised her chin with defiance. Although she knew Gavin wouldn't let Brine hurt her, she did feel a little frightened as she noticed the storm clouds brewing in his fixed glare. Brine's features contorted into anger. He touched his fingertips to the spot on his cheek, now red and flaming. "I still owe ya fer the last time. Dinna think I'll nae find a way to get even," he warned, glancing past her at Gavin's lingering presence. He lowered his voice so it was barely a whisper and Cheyenne had to struggle to make out the words. "He can't watch ya every minute of every day. Before this adventure is over, ya will get yers." 311

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Fear coursed through her veins like liquid ice, making her shiver with a sudden chill even though the air around her was warm. The meaning of his words gnawed away at her confidence. Cheyenne realized with sickening clarity that he was right. There was no way Gavin could protect her at all times. Why did I taunt this man? Squaring her shoulders and trying to appear undaunted by his threat, she abruptly turned on her heels and strode away, leaving both men to stare after her. **** Cheyenne was surprised at how quickly the repugnant odor seeped out the windows after Marge had opened them. Although the aroma was still faintly detectable, at least it was tolerable. When she stepped through the massive front door, a thickbannered stairwell centered in the foyer greeted her. Its wide, white marble stairs raced upward to meet the overlooking balcony hovering above. Several closed doors were visible behind its protective railing, lining the mouth of a long, darkened hallway that disappeared from view like a lengthening tunnel. Bedrooms? Cheyenne lost count of the doors as they vanished down the corridor. There must be at least half a dozen. Marge entered the foyer behind her and slipped through a door to her right, carrying an armload of food. Seconds later, 312

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she emerged from the same door and headed back outside for another round. "Do you need some help?" Cheyenne called after the older woman's retreating figure. "Nay, lass. Make with yer search. I can see yer curiosity's a brewin'. Just stay close," Marge replied, disappearing from sight. Cheyenne smiled. Indeed it was. This was going to be her home for the next several weeks, and she wanted to learn every inch of it. She was particularly interested in any good hiding spots, or maybe even secret passages. Hey, it's possible! she argued with the voice of reason that chimed about her creative imagination getting the best of her. In this crazy world, anything was. After all, her being there in the first place defied every law of logic. Besides, it felt wonderful to have a few moments of peace to herself, even if only a few. Gavin's shadowing watch and Brine's cold stare were driving her insane. Surely they'd be busy unloading for a while. With growing excitement, she eagerly started her investigation. To her left was a doublewide entry with massive cherry wood doors that slid back into their frame. Grasping the large brass handles, she pulled them apart. Cheyenne smiled with delight as bright sunshine sprinkled with gleaming dust particles welcomed her into the cozy room inside. As she stepped across the threshold, she was taken aback by the size of the interior. The room seemed to encompass the entire left half of the house, and was sectioned off by 313

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groupings of distinctive furniture in lieu of walls, each with its own unique theme. What a strange layout. One assemblage was centered around a tall brass harp, another around a stone encrusted fireplace who's hearth was littered with an entourage of candles, and yet another around a large wooden table lined with sturdy captain's chairs. Although each sector was masterful in its own right, they all exuded a different voice and would draw a particular crowd. This was a room to appeal to all manners of tastes and opinions, and could easily house a multitude of varying conversations without encroaching upon the boundaries of another. Cheyenne imagined glorious parties taking place here, with beautiful women in long flowing gowns perching delicately upon the varying sofas while another played an alluring tune on the shiny harp. Strapping men decked in their finest attire would sit around the wooden table, playing poker, or blackjack, or whatever engagement they enlisted for entertainment. She sighed. What fun it would be. If only things were different. Large picture windows trimmed with skillfully carved frames were strategically placed on every exterior wall, allowing for the brilliant display of natural light which added a hospitable cheer to the vast room. Massive golden panels of velvet material draped from wooden curtain rods like thick boas, spilling onto the smoky-marble floors below. 314

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On the back wall, three enormous panes of glass offered an unobstructed view of a sandy beach and flawless, sparkling lake nestled behind the cottage. The water's beckoning ripples glistened like diamonds, and Cheyenne couldn't help but feel drawn to its beauty. As she approached the windows, she noticed a winding stone walkway bordered by overgrown wildflowers made its way down to the gritty sand. Promising herself she'd visit the shore later, she returned her attention to the room's décor. Dramatic artwork adorned the walls between each windowsill. Violent scenes of war and battle were skillfully portrayed on enormous tapestries and stunning oil paintings. She lightly ran her fingers across the rough surface of an eyecatching piece. The entire picture had been painstakingly stitched by hand, one inch at a time, and it was absolutely magnificent. It must have taken years to finish this. She wondered who had designed and created such a striking, albeit morbid, piece of work. As she studied the meticulous detail of the men's faces locked in timeless stances of hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship, she began to see resemblances to Darian and Chris. One man in particular was almost an exact replica of the two. "Darian's father," Gavin said softly, coming to stand behind her. The sound of his voice startled her and Cheyenne let out a squeaky yelp. "Jeez, don't sneak up on me like that!" She playfully swatted his arm. 315

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But Gavin's lack of humor caused her jovial smile to quickly fade. Lines of fatigue circled his tired eyes and his lips were cast slightly downward in a miserable scowl. Cheyenne felt guilty about her excited energy. She knew Gavin hadn't slept much the last few days, and probably wouldn't until they left. "Is something wrong?" He looked at her a long while before finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I had a sister once. I loved 'er like she were my own bairn. Young, bonnie, she was an innocent." Gavin briefly closed his eyes. "I can still see 'er. My memories are all that give life to 'er smile an' sound to 'er laughter." Cheyenne watched the pained expressions crossing his features. Instinct warned his story wasn't going to be a happy one. Waiting patiently for him to regain control of his emotions and collect his thoughts, she stood quiet and motionless. When he resumed his tale, his voice was surprisingly calm and even. "Stubborn lass though. So ignorant of how thin's work an' so damned defiant against anyone who tried to tell 'er. Even me." Gavin suddenly smiled, a warm genuine smile that reached all the way to his sparkling blue eyes. It was as if a ray of sunshine had suddenly spread through his limbs, momentarily erasing his pain and anger. "Auck! If ya could only have seen all the harmless fights we had over silly thin's like swords an' horseback ridin', an' how lasses are s'posed to behave." 316

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Chuckling, he shook his head. "An' 'er temper ... By the gods! It was famous. Even Darian was scared of 'er!" He laughed again, and Cheyenne found herself touched by his mirth. Then his smile faded as the apparent tragedy of her death drained all humor from his heart. "I tried to protect 'er as much as I could, but I just couldn't seem to make 'er understand how dangerous this world can be." He walked a few feet away, running thick fingers through his disheveled hair. "Kira was 'er name. She died two passes ago." When he grew silent again, Cheyenne knew there was more to the story. "Brine had something to do with it, didn't he?" Her voice was soft. But she knew Gavin had heard. He turned toward her, then lowered his gaze to the floor and mutely nodded. "Darian an' I had agreed to meet with Chris to discuss a truce. Of course, we knew Chris wouldn't come alone or unarmed. So neither did we. I guess a total of about thirty men ended up facin' each other in the small field beside Graken Forest. Thirty men an', unbeknownst to me, one lass." Sadly shaking his head, Gavin pressed his palms to his eyes as though warding off a bout of acute exhaustion. "Silly lass had followed us. An' I had no idea 'til ... 'til she was already dead." He paused, as though needing a moment of silence to collect his thoughts and allow the torment of what happened to subside. Then he continued. "Needless to say, negotiations didn't go well an' a battle quickly ensued. Sometime durin' 317

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the confusion, Brine must have seen Kira hidin' in the outskirts of the forest. He left the field an' went after 'er. I didn't even realize 'e had..." Gavin inhaled deeply as an involuntary shudder passed through his body. Then he turned his back and walked over to a nearby window. Placing his large hands on the sill, he leaned against it and stared out the dusty glass. As though riddled by guilt and unable to meet the accusing questions in her unwavering gaze, he remained riveted to that spot, back ramrod straight, arms stiff. The room grew uncomfortably quiet as the silence stretched out for what felt like hours. He seemed to be fighting a one-man war against an invisible opponent within the deep recesses of his heart. It was a long while before he continued. "With Chris short a mon, we were able to overtake his warriors an' secure a quick victory. Nae that it made much difference, Chris still disregards the truce. Anyhow, I didn't know Kira had been there 'til later. Chris's messenger brought a note to the camp that evenin'." Another jolt wracked his sturdy frame, making him appear almost weak and helpless as the tremble passed through his limbs like a debilitating quake. He inhaled a long shaky breath before speaking. "'Virgin's blood, 'tis naught sweeter,' it read. Somehow, I knew. I just knew. Even before we found 'er broken body." His last declaration was barely a whisper. Cheyenne could hear the anguish in his voice. Helplessly, she watched as his proud shoulders drooped with crushing grief. She almost couldn't bear to see this strong, virile man 318

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nearly crippled with heartache as he gave a recount of what happened to his beloved sister. Stepping up behind him, she placed a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "If it hurts too much, then don't tell me." Gavin shrugged her hand off. "Nay! Ya have to know. Ya have to know how dangerous 'e is. She was only sixteen passes old. Sixteen! A mere babe. Naught more." He let out a long anguished sigh. "When we found 'er, she was already dead. 'Twas obvious he'd violated 'er innocent body, fer the blood..." Gavin choked on his own words and shook his head against the violent memory. "But it was much worse, much worse. He'd nae only taken 'er maidenhead in the most brutal manner, he'd beaten 'er so severely that she had no hope of survival." Cheyenne bit her lower lip to quiet her own shocked gasp as she learned of the poor girl's manner of death. Thoughts of Chris's attack briefly flashed through her mind. She wondered if even he were capable of such atrocity. Certainly he must be, she concluded. For if not, then how could he associate himself with such an animal? "I'm so sorry about your loss. It must have been ... difficult for you. I understand your hatred for him now. This whole situation must be very hard to deal with," she said gently. Gavin glanced sideways at her, his eyes suddenly turning hard and unreadable. "The point is, dinna intimidate 'im, Cheyenne. He will think naught of doin' the same to you. Only fear of Chris's fury deters 'im. But it willna last." 319

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Cheyenne took an unsteady step backward, fear filling her insides and wrapping around her heart with icy fingers. "Then why'd Darian agree to send me here with him. Doesn't he understand the danger he's put me in?" Gavin closed his eyes a moment and sighed. "Aye. I'm afraid 'e does, all too much. That's why 'e sent me to protect ya. Believe me, this wasn't Darian's choice. Chris left 'im no alternative." Cheyenne felt panic beginning to rise within her. "So what do we do? You can't keep your eyes on me all the time. There's just no way. You have to sleep sometime." Gavin ran a shaking hand through his hair once again. "I dinna ken. I just dinna ken." **** His own feelings for her were a problem in themselves. The additional factors simply made their situation nearly unbearable. May the gods help me. It was his duty to protect her. Not only from Brine, but also himself. How could he keep her close enough to do so, yet avoid another situation like what had happened at Warban Castle? Right now, his sense of obligation overrode his desires, but the longer they were alone together, the more difficult restraining himself would become. Auck! This is surely worse than endurin' the fiery realm of Hades whilst bein' powerless to leave! He looked at her a long while, trying to weigh out all options, and incidentally, all consequences. She was right, short of keeping her within his sight all day and all night, 320

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which he knew wasn't a good idea for his own sanity, there was simply no way to ensure her safety. She had to protect herself when he wasn't around. His mouth suddenly softened into a satisfied grin as a solution dawned. Of course! There simply isn't any other answer. He just wondered how she'd feel about it. "Ya know about healin' an' medicine, nay?" He continued on before she could respond. "What ya did fer Darian an' Chris ... Both men should have died." **** Cheyenne slowly shook her head in agreement. This was true. But she hadn't done anything for them that any other person with her skills could have done. She'd merely used her knowledge to do what she'd been trained to do. His sudden mood change had her perplexed. He seemed awfully pleased about whatever solution he'd concocted, and she couldn't help but feel hesitant. With mixed feelings of uncertainty and dread, she braced herself, waiting for him to divulge his seemingly brilliant resolution, unpleasant as it was sure to be. "But could ya hurt someone? If ya had to?" Cheyenne's thoughts changed from tentative to bewildered. What was he asking? "I ... I don't think I understand what you mean?" Her right brow arched with suspicion. She was almost afraid to ask the obvious question. "Hurt someone how?"

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Gavin looked around, as though assuring himself of their privacy. Gently taking her by the arm, he pulled her to the back of the sitting parlor. "Wait here." He crossed the expansive room and quietly closed the double doors. Then he returned to where she waited. "Pull up yer skirt." "What?" Cheyenne asked incredulously. Rebelliously shaking her head, she started to back away from him. "Gavin, I don't think this is such a good—" "Just do it!" Cheyenne jumped at the harshness of his tone. With trembling fingers, she took hold of her dress and slowly slid it upward until her legs were exposed up to her knees. Then she quietly stared at him, willing herself to remain calm. Her stomach knotted with disappointment and unease. Have I misjudged him? Gavin squatted down in front of her. Supported by one knee on the floor, he took hold of her foot and guided it to rest on top of his other knee. Next, he unbuckled the leather holster sporting a large knife from his left calf. He briefly glanced up at her before grasping the hem of her skirt and pulling it up even further. Cheyenne held her breath as he slipped her dress up ever so slowly until she was exposed up to her thigh. "Gavin please..." she whispered quietly, her limbs beginning to shake as uncertain fear and unwanted feelings coursed through her insides.

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In her heart, she knew she wanted no one but Darian. It was as he'd said—she belonged to him. But why did her body seem bent on betraying her heart? If Darian and the others were there, would she respond to Gavin in the same manner? Or would he just simply be one of the gang? Perhaps Darian's cruelty had left her weak and doubtful. Besides, it was his fault she was in this predicament in the first place! "Gavin..." she repeated, reaching to halt his hand from moving any further up her thigh. "Please." Her body was simply responding to touch. Gavin was certainly appealing and she couldn't deny her attraction to him. But her heart was right. Darian was whom she wanted. Darian and no one else. Gavin ignored her plea. "If 'e comes at ya when I'm nae around, I want ya to use this." He wrapped the holster's strap around her thigh and secured it firmly. "Promise me you'll use it, if ya have to." Cheyenne was instantly flooded with relief. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until it all came out in one big whoosh! But her relief was immediately followed by feelings of guilt. Gavin's actions had been innocent all along, and her body's reaction filled her with shame. She mentally shook herself. No. He could have just given me the holster and let me put it on myself. Regardless of my reaction, his behavior was far from blameless. Realizing Gavin was still waiting for her to respond to his request, she somberly nodded. After what he'd told her about 323

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his sister, she knew she could use the knife on Brine, if it came to that. She just prayed she could stay out of his way and wouldn't have to. Perhaps it might also come in handy, once she escaped. Gavin's hand lingered a little too long on her inner thigh. Drawing in a shaky breath, he removed her foot from his knee almost reluctantly, then stood up. Blatant desire swirled in his gaze when he looked at her. Seemingly overwhelmed by his own raging emotions, his body swayed toward her. "If Darian wasn't my friend..." he whispered hoarsely. Then he shook his head. "Why make this harder than it already is?" A small shudder wracked his massive frame before he turned and strolled to the door, leaving her stare after his retreating backside. As he crossed the threshold, she thought she heard him say, "Some thin's are best left unsaid." Cheyenne watched as Gavin left the room. She knew she was to blame for his torment. If she hadn't been so careless the other night ... Tempting as he was, there was only one man she fully desired, heart and soul. It was unfortunate he didn't return her affection. Feeling the burden of so much confusion, guilt, and pain weighing her down like a lead sinker, she sighed heavily and dropped onto a nearby sofa. Its delicate material was covered with a dingy drop cloth—the once crisp, white linen now gray and wrinkled. Years of dust puffed up around her in a thick dark cloud as her bottom landed on the shrouded seat. She choked and coughed in rebellion, then sneezed several times 324

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before the irritating powder finally settled back down around her. How had her life become so difficult? Sometimes, she still wondered if she wasn't just dreaming. Would she wake up and find Darian and his world had never existed? Although it would certainly solve her problems, the idea made her sad. She didn't want to give him up, but it would be so much more pleasant if their meeting could have been under different circumstances. If it wasn't for that stupid prophecy... Uncertainty plagued her thoughts, making her insecure. What would a powerful man like Darian see in a homely halfbreed like me? He probably wouldn't have given me a second glance if it weren't for my supposed part in that ridiculous divination. Tears of sadness stung her lashes as the probability became apparent. No, no that's not true, she reassured herself, shaking her head with denial. What she'd seen the night they'd made love was real. She was sure of it. As for what he'd said to Chris afterward... Cheyenne chewed at one of her nails, nibbling the smooth, perfectly manicured edge down to the quick before she'd even realized what she was doing. Glaring at the now mangled nail, she wrinkled her nose with disgust. It was an age-old habit, one she'd battled with her whole life. Apparently, she was still losing. She leaned back against the dusty cloth and closed her eyes. If the time here was like it was on her own planet, they wouldn't have to wait a whole month for her womanly flow as 325

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Chris had so callously put it. She imagined they would have their answer in little over a week. It was doubtful she was pregnant. It wouldn't have been the right time. For some reason, the realization made her depressed. Wouldn't things be easier if she'd gotten pregnant? Chris would have no further interest in her, or at least that's what he said. And Darian would have gotten what he wanted. Everyone would be happy, right? Everyone except me. No, she'd be even more miserable than she already was. At least until she was pregnant, Darian would still want her. After that, his interest would likely fade away. A single hot tear slipped from her closed lashes and trailed down her cheek, making a wet track for others to follow. With a frustrated huff, Cheyenne swiped the tears away and then pushed herself up from the couch. Crying certainly wasn't going to change anything. She had no control over her future, and dwelling on it only made her more depressed. Probably just PMS. Putting up with men's shit. Cheyenne laughed to herself. That's what Aimee always said anyway. Aimee ... She sighed. How she missed her home, her friends, her cat. In just a few short days, her life had changed so much. She'd somehow come to this strange planet, fallen in love, lost her innocence, and gained a future filled with uncertainty. But if given the chance, would she want to go back? Cheyenne sadly shook her head. No, she concluded. No matter what the future held, she'd always cherish that night in Darian's arms. If nothing else, it would get her through what lay ahead. 326

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Looking about the closed up parlor, she decided to make herself useful. She went to the first window and studied its frame to determine how it could be opened. Then, after a long battle with the resistant lock, she managed to best the difficult latch and push the pane out. She repeated the process with each window until they were all open and fresh air sailed through the room. Cheyenne inhaled the welcoming scent before turning her attention to the shrouded furniture. Walking to the first fixture, she took hold of the drop cloth and yanked it off. Her nostrils were immediately assailed by another dust cloud. She ran to the closest window and leaned out, gulping in fresh air before her sinuses surrendered to the swirling irritants and she was assaulted by another round of sneezes. Rubbing her itching nose with back of her hand, she dutifully marched to the next piece of furniture. This is going to be a long day. Then she took hold of the cloth.

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CHAPTER 25 Nearly eight days had passed without incidence, and Cheyenne was thankful. Gavin and Brine purposely avoided each other and seemed to be keeping the peace. Perhaps they'd all make it out of there unscathed, unless you counted a broken heart. In which case, she'd already received a near fatal blow. Her vision was still gloomily colored with the memory of Darian's betrayal. A heavy sorrow weighed her down and the sourness in the pit of her stomach refused to budge. She'd given him everything she had, and all he'd given back was heartache. How could I have been so blind to his persuasion? Wiping away an apprehensive tear that trembled on her dark lashes as though fearful to make the plunge lest others follow in its stead, she attempted to shove all thoughts of Darian away. Dwelling on him only made her more miserable. Get out of my head, Darian Andreas! After a week's time of near solitude, Cheyenne craved conversation. Even though Gavin's presence had been consistent, he'd avoided speaking to her unless absolutely necessary. She certainly wouldn't speak to Brine—whom she rarely saw anyhow—and Marge was always busy cleaning or cooking. Cheyenne pondered Brine's absence a moment. He seemed to have completely forgotten she even existed. Apparently, he'd decided she wasn't worth a fight with Gavin 328

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and had found something else to occupy his time with, besides stalking her. She snorted with disgust. Good riddance to him! She'd tried offering Marge her assistance in the kitchen, but had been ushered out after she'd messed up a recipe. How was she supposed to know the white powder in the jar wasn't flour? It certainly looked like flour to her. Cheyenne sighed. She was beyond boredom. She'd love to go for a walk. But every time she asked Gavin to accompany her, he refused, declaring it was unsafe or feigning fatigue. She wondered if he just didn't want to be alone with her. Do I make him that uncomfortable? She lounged in a large armchair and stared longingly at the huge lake behind the house. The sun was perched high in the clear blue sky, casting bright rays across the water's sparkling surface. And a cool breeze wafted through the open window, ruffling her hair. Cheyenne watched as what appeared to be a mother swan herd her five babies toward the shoreline. Swimming lessons. A tentative smile tugged at her mouth. Her hesitant humor turned to barely contained amusement as one of the babies broke free of rank and attempted to escape back to the grass. Cheyenne giggled as the mother swan rushed after the renegade youngster and squawked a warning command to get back in line. Reluctantly, the rebellious cygnet acquiesced and returned to the waiting group of his brothers and sisters. She wished she could be out there with them, enjoying the sunlight, 329

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lounging on the sand, picking flowers, anything besides being cooped up inside. Why shouldn't I be? she thought fiercely. Brine isn't around. With a sudden burst of determination, Cheyenne jumped up from the chair and purposely strode toward the front door. The hell with this! If Gavin doesn't want me out by myself, then he better go with me because I'm not staying locked up another minute! Quietly slipping outside, Cheyenne stepped out into the warm sunlight. She closed her eyes and soaked in the heat of the rays as they caressed her cheeks. Expecting Gavin to burst out the door behind her and usher her back in, she quickly descended the stairs and headed around the side of the house, toward the lake. When she reached the sandy shore, she found a spot overgrown with soft grass and plopped down onto the welcoming downy surface. Glancing around for Gavin, she was glad to see he hadn't yet noticed her disappearance. Perhaps she could get a few moments of peace before he barreled down there and gave her a thorough tongue-lashing for going out unescorted. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she leaned back onto her elbows. The air was warm and the sun beat down upon her dark hair. Tiny beads of sweat welled on her upper lip and forehead, matting wispy tendrils to her scalp. The stuffy material of her dress quickly became damp with perspiration, making it cling to her body like a second skin. She was definitely going to have to talk to Darian about her 330

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clothing. Although the fancy dresses were pretty to look at, they were very uncomfortable. It was time his world learned a little something about women's rights. Inhaling the fresh air once again, she closed her eyes as her thoughts drifted to Darian. She wished he were there with her. This would be a wonderful place for a honeymoon. Cheyenne's eyes flew open as the suggestion entered her mind. Now what possessed her to think that? Darian hadn't even proposed. And it certainly looked as though he wouldn't. Hadn't she learned anything from his callous words? All he cared about was the prophecy. Still, she wondered, what would she say if he ever did? Cheyenne dozed, unaware of how much time passed as she lay on the soft grass and daydreamed about Darian's touch. The sun was sinking below the distant hills and the air had turned a little cooler. Although she dreaded going back into the house, she knew it was probably time. She'd been lucky thus far. Brine didn't seem to be anywhere around. But she had no desire to test fate. With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly sat up. "Where's yer fearless protector?" Brine satirically questioned. Cheyenne jerked around to face him. He was casually leaning against a cluster of large boulders only a few feet away. His legs were crossed at the ankles and he looked as though he'd been there a while. It unnerved her as she realized she hadn't heard him approach. "What do you want?" she snapped, then turned back toward the lake. 331

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Cheyenne pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She prayed he'd just leave and let her be. Why did he have to invade her solitude? The last thing she needed was for Gavin to see her talking to him. She wouldn't be allowed out of her room! "Auck! Such a snippy lass. Are we nae in the mood fer company?" His voice was velvet, yet edged with steel. "I've noticed Gavin's been avoidin' ya. What's the matter? Wouldn't ya show 'im yer sweets? It's nae like Darian would know. Nae now." Cheyenne's mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed with distaste. She whipped around to face him. "You are thoroughly disgusting!" Brine's face cracked into an abhorrent grin as he chuckled at her accusation. Cheyenne huffed with annoyance and jumped to her feet. Wiping off the back of her dress, she raised her chin and started back toward the house, dismissing him and his uncomforting presence. He'd interrupted her pleasant mood, ruined her tranquility, and she had no desire to entertain his warped ideas or remain alone with him any longer than necessary. She had just passed by his loafing frame when his hand shot out and seized her forearm. Before she could scream, he covered her mouth and pulled her behind the rocky barricade, out of view from house. "Nae so fast, lassie," he hissed, a silken edge of warning in his smooth voice. 332

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Cheyenne let out a muffled yelp as he slammed her against the rough surface of the rocks. The jagged edges bit into the delicate flesh of her backside, bruising her spine. His hand was like a steel clamp across her mouth, preventing her from screaming and alerting anyone to her need of rescue. Icy fear shot through her veins, freezing her insides and chilling her to the bone. She breathed noisily, her nostrils flaring as she struggled for air. Her heart pounded through her teeth and she felt dangerously close to faint. She thought of Gavin's little sister and the manner of her death. As she looked into Brine's cold, emotionless glare, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he was capable of such atrocity. That and much worse, she realized with mounting terror. Brine snatched a large knife from his waistband and held it to Cheyenne's throat. "If ya scream, I'll use this. Do ya understand?" There was no uncertainty in his voice, no hint of mercy in his tone, no indication of compassion in the harsh admonition. Cheyenne nodded her head. She knew he would. Willing herself to remain calm as he removed his hand from her mouth, she drew in a shaky breath. "What do you want?" she asked smoothly, trying to sound undaunted by his attack. Brine ignored her question. Taking a handful of her hair, he lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Then he let the sleek locks slip through his grimy fingers like a cascading waterfall, watching in awe until the very last strand had fallen free. 333

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"'Tis black as night an' smooth as silk," he whispered, seemingly mesmerized by its shimmering softness. Cheyenne tried to quell the growing panic raging through her insides. His nearness was repulsive, his interest alarming. She felt ill. She swallowed tightly. "What do you want, Brine?" she repeated in the same cool tone. "We could leave right now, you an' I. My harse is saddled an' waitin' in the stable." He indicated the distant structure with a jerk of his thumb. "I could take ya away from Darian an' Chris. Ya wouldn't ever have to see either one again. I'd— " "No," Cheyenne interrupted flatly, struggling to retain control of her mounting horror. Has he lost his mind? First of all, Darian and Chris would hunt them both down. Secondly, he was a ruthless murderer, and she didn't want anything to do with him! From the desirous gleam in his steel colored eyes, his interest was obvious, and the very thought of it made her stomach churn with disgust. Brine's face clouded with displeasure. His jaw tensed and his lips drew together in an unpleasant scowl. He looked on the verge of exploding. Then the corners of his mouth suddenly curled into a wicked grin. With the knife still pressed firmly against her throat, his traced the line of her jaw with his forefinger. "Yer skin is soft. Like a wee bairn." Cheyenne bit her lip until it throbbed to keep from crying out her protest when his finger slid down her throat and across her collarbone. Her mind whirled on the brink of 334

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incoherence when his skilled hand slowly unbuttoned the bodice of her dress and slipped inside. Squeezing her eyes shut when his palm found her breast and curled around it, she forced herself to remain calm. Brine chuckled. "But yer no bairn, are ya, lass." His fingertips bit into her tender flesh as he cruelly groped. "Nay. Yer no bairn." She had to think of a way out of there. Perhaps she could buy some time ... Just enough for Gavin to notice her absence. But instinct warned something wasn't right. Gavin should have already noticed her absence. She'd been outside for at least a couple of hours. Normally, he'd have already found her. Brine leaned forward and brushed his lips along her neck as though drinking in the flavor of her skin. "Darian would ne'er know if we—" "No!" Was he daft? Hadn't he heard her the first time? Didn't he understand that no meant no? Or did all men on this planet completely disregard a woman's wishes when it came to her body? Brine's head jerked up and his eyes turned black with anger. "Nay?" he asked incredulously, as though he didn't quite believe she was refusing him. "Nay, no, take your pick," she responded again, sounding the words out clearly so he'd understand perfectly. Unable to contain her revulsion, "I'd rather sleep with a mangy dog than be touched by the likes of you!" 335

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Before she could register his intent, Brine's hand slipped from her dress and crashed against her jaw. A pained gasp exploded from her lips. Closing her eyes, she grit her teeth, forbidding herself from crying. He didn't deserve the satisfaction. Tasting blood at the corner of her mouth, she licked it off with the tip of her tongue. Then she glared defiance. "You make me sick," she ground out between clenched teeth. Cheyenne barely noticed the motion of his arm as it swung in a blur. This time, she couldn't suppress the yelp that tore from her lips as the back of his hand caught her on the other cheek with a stinging blow. When her head spun to the side and smashed against the boulder, pain shot through her brow and her closed eyelids filled with an explosion of white fireworks. She wasn't sure how much longer she could withstand this. Gavin, where are you? Drawing in a pained breath, she turned hate-filled eyes upon the monster before her. Brine's gaze was trained on her throbbing jaw. Seemingly pleased by his accomplishment, his lips twisted into a cruel smile. Then he tangled his hand in her hair and yanked her head back. His head dipped forward, bringing his mouth close to her ear. "We're still nae even," he whispered softly. Cheyenne cringed as she felt his lips move against her lobe. Her body trembled when his mouth slid along her jaw, leaving a wet trail in its wake. As his head moved downward to the opening of her bodice, stark panic coursed through her 336

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insides. She was frozen with horror, unable to protest, unable to fight. Her whole being seemed paralyzed with fear. Although he'd released her hair, the knife remained poised along her throat, ready to deal out death with one quick slash. She was trapped. If she moved or screamed, he'd slice her wide open. Frantically glancing around for some means of escape, she realized all she had was her wit. She took a deep breath. "You must have a death wish," she stated evenly, masking the tremor in her voice. Brine paused and looked up at her. He raised one thick brow as though her comment amused him. When she failed to elaborate, he finally asked, "Why so?" Cheyenne shrugged with indifference. "If Gavin doesn't kill you for this, then Darian will. Or perhaps it'll be Lord Blood," she stated with conviction, using Chris's nickname in hopes of frightening him. Brine looked away, as though debating the wisdom of her words. But his reservations were short lived. "Gavin doesn't concern me, nor does Darian." He ran a callused finger along the curve of her lower lip. Then he grinned, seemingly pleased by the slight quiver elicited by his action. "As fer Chris, I'll tell 'im ya lie. Better yet, I'll tell 'im ya tried to lure me into yer bed. But out of loyalty to 'im, I refused. It's yer word against mine." Cheyenne's mind raced for a rebuttal. "When Gavin sees the marks on my—" "Gavin couldn't even protect his sister," Brine barked suddenly. Then his eyes closed and a mischievous smile tugged at his thin mouth. "Ahh ... I've such delicious 337

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memories of 'er torture. What a tasty morsel she was. Virgin's blood, 'tis naught sweeter. I can only imagine his anguish when 'e found 'er." Cheyenne felt the bitter flavor of bile rising in the back of her throat. If there had been any doubt as to who had killed Kira, there was no more. It was obvious this man had no remorse for his cruelty. He certainly possessed no mercy. And the realization of her circumstances filled her with suffocating dread. She glanced around, hoping to see Gavin rushing toward them. But he apparently wasn't aware of her attack. Her gaze returned to Brine's. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I know what yer lookin' fer. I know what ya want." His chin dipped forward, bringing his lips close to her ear. "But yer search is futile." The words were a low growl. Then he leaned back his head and closed his eyes. "Ahh ... the gratifyin' pleasure of absolute power." He seemed strangely pleased about something, and Cheyenne felt the prickle of alarm deep within. Oh dear God. What has he done? His head snapped forward and he pierced her with a gloating stare. "Gavin isn't here, lassie. Ya see, 'e's out searchin' fer ya." His pleased chuckled filled the air when her eyes grew round with shock. It was a wicked sound that turned her insides to ice and her limbs to jelly. Cheyenne pressed back against the boulder to keep from falling. 338

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"After 'e read the letter ya left 'im, tellin' 'im you were takin' one of the harses an' headin' back to Warban, 'e took off out of here like a madman with a demon of Hades on his heels. By the way, that was last night so I expect 'im to be gone a while." His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he trailed a fingertip down between her breasts. "I even packed some of yer belongin's an' hid one of the harses, so as to make it believable. You an' Marge was busy cleanin' out the cellar when 'e rushed to yer room, only to find it empty." His lips curled into a sadistic smile. "Ahh ... but I'd loved to have seen his face when 'e found ya was missin'. I can only imagine his distress. I'd closed the cellar door an' replaced the lock. He ne'er thought to look doon there fer ya. I simply waited in the shadows, biddin' my time 'til 'e was gone. Then I unlocked the cellar. Ya ne'er even knew did ya?" Cheyenne shook her head in disbelief. "No," she whispered, unable to believe Brine could be that devious. She and Marge were down there for hours. She didn't know... Her vision clouded with tears and her heart ached as hopelessness squeezed her chest. He'd set this up. Any hope of escape quickly evaporated into nothingness—like dewdrops on a hot sunny morning—as she realized she was helpless against his intentions. How long had he been planning this? Hours? Days? Like a master of chess, he'd thoroughly examined the situation, carefully aligned his pawns, and skillfully arranged their circumstances until he had set himself up for unprecedented achievement. His game. His rules. His victory. 339

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Brine laughed when he saw her apparent anguish. "So ya see, I'm in control of yer destiny. I alone shall decide yer fate." His nostrils flared as his mouth curled into a smug sneer. "Guess I dinna even need this." He slowly drew the tip of the knife across her throat and along her chin, barely scratching the surface, but not quite drawing blood. Cheyenne held her breath, waiting for the razor sharp blade to slice through her skin. He was purposely intimidating her, taunting her, torturing her. And the boost of adrenaline gained by his malicious behavior obviously filled him with pleasure because his eyes sparkled with deviant excitement and his lips curled into an infuriatingly smug grin. Tucking the intimidating blade back into its leather holster at his waist, he leaned close to her ear. "Now I have two free hands." His lips brushed lightly against her skin, sending chills of alarm racing along her spine. Although his tone was lusty and soft, the words were like shrouded daggers—poised, dangerous, and ready to thrust. Then he wiggled all ten fingers before her eyes as if to further prove his point. His gaze turned to one of pure wickedness as his eyes raked over her flushed skin, lingering on the parted material of her bodice. He seemed momentarily entranced, spellbound by her heaving bosom. Cheyenne watched in horror as his expression melted into one of desire. She felt naked and vulnerable beneath his piercing stare. When his tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip as though he were a fierce hunter salivating over 340

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an appetizing meal, her legs went limp and she slid to the ground at his feet. She felt like a terrified rabbit, trapped in a wolf's den, staring at its inevitable fate, and powerless to escape. Pulling the edges of her bodice together, she scooted against the boulder, slowly moving away from him and out of his reach. "I'm warning you, Brine. Stay away from me." She inhaled a deep unsteady breath and pointed a shaking finger up at him. "I'll scream if you—" Brine roared with laughter at her puny defiance. But his humor quickly failed and he advanced on her with determination. "Go ahead, 'tis only Marge who'll hear ya." Grabbing her by the forearms, he jerked her to her feet and crushed her against him. His lips hungrily sought hers, eagerly devouring their softness like a ravenous animal. His hands were insatiable, roaming, groping, and probing every inch they could reach. His body was like a coiled rattler, tightening, tensing, and swelling with the driving power of lust and desire until it would strike with paralyzing force. With the immediate threat to her life momentarily sheathed at Brine's waist, Cheyenne fought against him with renewed vigor, scratching and clawing, even drawing blood in her frantic attempt to escape. But his steely grasp was unbreakable. When her struggles interrupted his violation, he merely pinned her against the boulder, apparently not caring if the rough edges cut into her backside with its razor sharp teeth. 341

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Cheyenne cursed and called him every vile name she could think of in both his language and hers when he discontinued the ravishment of her mouth only to focus on the tops of her breasts. But it was no use, he was too strong and she was no physical match for him. His mind was set on one goal, and if she didn't come up with something quick, he'd soon attain it. She thought of the knife concealed on her thigh. If only she could get to it ... But even if she did, he might best it from her and use it out of anger at her defiance. Cheyenne wanted to cry out with helpless frustration. Damn you, Darian! This is your fault! You sent me here! Brine was like an octopus, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, probing, squeezing, and invading every part of her she considered sacred. She kicked her legs and swung her fists at his face as he wrestled her to the ground. As though she were nothing but a small child, he easily thwarted her defenses and straddled her waist, pinning her beneath him. Taking hold of her bodice, Brine ripped the edges apart, fully exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze. He paused only briefly to stare at the golden mounds before renewing his vicious attack. "I've thought of naught but yer lovely breasts an' shapely thighs since that day in Chris's bedchamber," he whispered heavily against her neck as his hand sought her skirt and yanked it upward. Cheyenne's rebellion melted into sobs of dismay as Brine's fingers traveled upward, ever so slowly making their way to the juncture of her thighs. Since underwear was nonexistent in this world, and she despised the scratchy bloomers that 342

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were hot and suffocating, there were no barricades left against his foray. As his invading digits brushed against the dark curls of her feminine vee, Cheyenne knew there was only one way to stop him. Reaching down to the knife in his waistband, she quickly unsheathed it and buried it in his outer thigh. Trying to remain focused as he roared with surprised pain, she shoved against him as hard as she could. Although he was far from being fatally wounded, Cheyenne managed to push Brine off of her and roll away. She'd barely gotten to her feet before he'd pulled the knife from his leg and was coming at her again, weapon in hand. With a terrified scream, she ran toward the woods. "Come back here, ya wee bitch! Prophecy or nae, yer gonna pay fer that!" Cheyenne ran blindly through the darkening forest. She had no idea where she was or how to get back to the house. And even if she did, there was no one there to help. Marge could scarcely protect her. Although she'd injured Brine enough to slow him down, his pursuit was relentless. It was like a terrible horror flick, one in which the monster just kept coming, no matter what. His body crashed noisily through the brush behind her, alerting her to his chase. He was close, too close. A cry of panic escaped her throat as she imagined feeling his hands grasping for her hair and his breath upon her neck. Then she remembered the nightmare she'd had that first night on this horrible planet. Had it been a premonition? She 343

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frantically searched her memory, trying to recollect her actions and whether or not she'd escaped. Time seemed to stop as she made her way deeper and deeper into the thick vegetation. Her legs were wobbly and unstable, her arms feeble and weak. With maladroit effort, she pulled and swatted at opposing branches and barricading vines as she trudged onward, awkwardly making her way toward an unknown destination. The air had grown cold. Its icy fingers wrapped around her throat and slowly squeezed it shut, making it difficult to inhale. Feeling as though one more breath would surely rupture her lungs, Cheyenne knew she had to rest. She slowed her pace, listening for Brine. There was nothing. Only the noisy chatter of a few squawking birds and the high-pitched song of some chirping insects. She stopped and leaned against a large tree. Her body was exhausted. Although she knew she should keep running, it was as though her legs refused to budge. Just a few moments rest was all she needed. Surely she'd put enough distance between them to afford herself that small luxury. Squinting against the dying light, she searched the dim foliage. Where is he? Maybe he gave up. But it was doubtful. She imagined he wouldn't stop until he got his hands on her. Just like Kira, she realized, thinking of Gavin's little sister once again. The look on Brine's face when she'd stabbed him had been murderous. Ravishment was probably the least of her 344

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concerns. There was no doubt he'd kill her too. She wasn't even sure which would come first. Cheyenne rested a few minutes and then pushed herself away from the tree. The stillness of the forest made her nervous. The quiet was eerie. Unease welled in her throat and she had the sudden feeling Brine was closer than she thought. She started to turn toward the direction she'd been heading, but before she'd moved more than a few inches, her eye caught the white glimmer of a metallic object mere seconds before it embedded itself into her right shoulder. Cheyenne screamed as the knife slashed through the tender flesh and a hot burning sensation seared down her arm. The blow nearly knocked her off her feet. She stumbled a little before regaining her balance. Her mind swooned dangerously close to faint as she stared down at her wound. The blade was buried to the hilt, grotesquely sticking out of her shoulder and crudely out of place. I don't want to die, she pleaded silently. Her first instinct was to grab the handle and pull it out. But she knew it would only make the bleeding worse. Besides, she didn't know if she had the stomach to do it. Forcing herself to remain alert, she focused on the looming threat before her. Brine had stepped out from behind a cluster of trees and was slowly advancing on her. "Hurts, nay?" he ground through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded his thick brow, matting his dirty brown hair to his forehead. "Before I'm through, pain shall be yer friend." 345

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Cheyenne cringed at the cruelty of his threat. Stay calm and think, she told herself, noticing he walked with a profound limp. Obviously, she'd hurt him pretty bad. Blood stained his pants down the knee, making the material appear shiny and slick. It clung to his thigh like cellophane. But even his apparent suffering didn't act as a deterrent. His cold eyes, now black with fury, remained fixated on hers. He was on a mission, and nothing short of death would stop him. With Brine only a few feet away and steadily closing in, Cheyenne started to panic. What do I do? She looked around for a weapon or means of defense. But there was nothing. Not even a stick or rock. She was left to her own defenses and quickly running out of options. He was almost upon her now, just an arms' reach away. Run! her mind screamed. Her body jerked at the obvious solution and she turned to flee. The jarring of her footsteps sent excruciating throbs coursing through her shoulder. Cheyenne stumbled and nearly tripped, but pushed herself onward. She knew her attempt was futile—Brine was too close. Her thoughts turned to Darian as she felt Brine's fingers tangle in her hair mere seconds before he yanked her backward and instantly halted her escape. She let out an earpiercing scream as her body was flung downward and an explosion of white-hot pain coursed through her arm when she landed on her injured shoulder. She'd barely hit the ground before Brine was upon her, pinning her beneath him. 346

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When he viciously took hold of the knife and yanked it free, her mind swooned. Another agonized cry tore from her trembling lips as she felt the sharp blade pull away from her tender flesh, once again cutting through the soft tissues with ease. With his palm wrapped around the knife's bloody hilt, Brine reared back and brought his fist down across her jaw. His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he heard her helpless gasp and she broke down into sobs of surrender. "Never has a woman defied me as you. Yer actions can't go unpunished. Death would be a welcomed mercy. But there'll be no leniency in yer torture. Yer sufferin' will be slow an' deliberate." Cheyenne threw her uninjured arm over her face to ward off another blow. Unable to fight any longer, she began to cry uncontrollably. "Please stop," she begged through heartwrenching wails. But Brine was apparently unmoved by her plea for mercy. His anger was seemingly uncontrollable now, and his only thoughts were obviously those of revenge. He angrily pulled her arm away from her face and forced it down beside her head. Then he ground his palm against the wound on her shoulder, reveling in her tormented shrieks. Seemingly satisfied she was beyond defiance, he slipped the edge of his knife under the waistband of her dress and slit the material down to the hem. "Ya think yer so tough?" He searched her face for an answer to his daunting question, but her tear-blurred stare refused to give him any satisfaction. 347

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"Answer me," he demanded, his voice icy with contempt. Cheyenne turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't stand the coldness of his eyes. There was no emotion, no sympathy, and no mercy in their coalblack depths. He might as well have been dead for there was no compassion in his stony heart. "Look at me!" He took hold of her chin and jerked her head forward, forcing her to meet his insistent glare. When Cheyenne opened her eyes, Brine's face was mere inches from her own. His breath was disgustingly sour, and her stomach turned in response. "Yer insolence is drivin' me barmy!" Then he sat up and let out a furious roar as though struggling with self-control. "Women are s'posed to be docile, mindless, obedient. Not defiant, headstrong, an' willful!" Cheyenne merely watched his tantrum in silence. Her shoulder was throbbing and her mind had begun to whirl with blood loss. But when his temperament suddenly shifted, she forced herself to refocus. I have to stay alert. If he slips up in any way, I have to be ready. His expression held a note of mockery, as if he was privy to some secret in which she was the unfortunate victim. Her limbs began to shake and her teeth to chatter as he eyed her with open condescension and calculating hatred. Waves of apprehension swept through her insides, one after another, like violent swells on a tempestuous ocean, as fearful images of her imminent fate built in her mind. 348

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Cheyenne stiffened her body and clamped her jaws tight, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified she was. He might rape and murder her, but she'd never give up without a fight. Her dignity wouldn't allow it. Then his entire demeanor shifted again and Cheyenne felt a whole new fear. Oh God. This man is literally crazy. Brine's lips twisted into a sympathetic smile. A sensual flame flickered in his gray eyes and the rigid line of his jaw unexpectedly softened as apparent longing temporarily overrode his murderous ideations. With slow and deliberate motion, he leaned forward, curled his fingers under her chin, and lightly brushed his lips across hers in an almost convincing act of tenderness. The gentleness of his touch was unnerving. If the brazen desire in his covetous gaze was supposed to be an enticement, it did little else but amplify her distrust. His seemingly placid behavior didn't fool her for a minute. This man was incapable of compassion or kindness. Bells of warning clamored through her head and she couldn't help but wonder what type of cruelty he was about to unleash upon her next. "It doesn't have to be this way," Brine coaxed, releasing her jaw and nuzzling her throat with his nose. He inhaled deeply, as though drinking in her essence. "Ya smell so delicate and pure, like soft jasmine. It's very ... enticin'. Can ya nae feel my arousal?" His hips pressed against hers and Cheyenne could feel the hardened form in his groin. She didn't answer. Willing herself not to cry, she clenched her teeth. 349

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A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he ground himself against her. "I could be gentle, if ya'd only take me willin'ly." His voice broke with barely controlled restraint. Cheyenne's vision blurred with tears of hopelessness. She wouldn't accept any man but Darian into her body, not Chris, not Gavin, and certainly not Brine, even to save her life. She'd rather choose death than deny her feelings and betray her heart again. She choked on a sob before inhaling a shaky breath. "Please, Brine," she whispered softly, hoping to appeal to any mortal thread of mercy that might be hiding in the dark recesses of his heartless soul. **** Brine searched her face for some sign of sincerity in her acquiescence. He longed to see the same yearning coursing through his veins mirrored in her beautiful gaze. But his hopes were quickly shattered. His eyes narrowed with disappointment as he read fear in her expression, fear and rejection, nothing more. "Please what?" His teeth clenched in anger as he recognized her refusal once again. "Please stop." Brine instantly sat up and roared out his frustration at her insolence. Why does she have to be so difficult? He'd gone against every grain in his nature to make that offer to her, and yet she still refused him. He could tolerate no more of her denial. Raising the knife above his head, he paused only briefly before bringing it downward. 350

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**** Cheyenne screamed in terror as the sharp blade plunged toward her. Surprisingly, it sank into the ground beside her cheek. He'd missed her face by mere inches. But she knew his aim had been deliberate. If he'd wanted to hit her, his mark would have been dead center. No, he wasn't through tormenting her, not yet. Closing her eyes, she let the gut-wrenching sobs take over as he yanked the tattered edges of her dress apart, completely exposing her naked body to his hungry gaze and punishing hands.

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CHAPTER 26 Gavin traveled through the night and well into the morning before realizing he'd been tricked. With the way he was driving his horse, he knew he would have already caught up with Cheyenne if she were heading back to Warban. There was no way she could have out rode him. His distress turned to panic as he recognized his mistake. Brine. If he turned back now, it would be near dark before he arrived at the cottage. And that was if he continued at the same pace. His mare was starting to tire, and he himself felt close to fatigue. Although he knew he should rest, he couldn't bring himself to spare the time. No, I have to go back. Now. He was just about to turn around when he saw a horse and its rider rushing toward him. At first he'd thought it might be Cheyenne after all, but when he saw the massive build of the man astride the galloping black steed, he knew it could only be one person. With a sigh of shame and a heart full of disgrace, Gavin swung down off his mount and waited for his Lord to reach him. When Darian reined his horse next to his, Gavin knew his friend was livid with disappointment. Darian had never looked upon him with such anger and disdain. And Cheyenne's absence only strengthened the unspoken fury in his Lord's harsh glare. 352

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He had failed in his duty and let down his best friend. But worse than that, he'd failed Cheyenne, and she stood to lose more than anyone else. Expecting death as his punishment, he wasted no time in telling Darian of Brine's deceit, and of his own stupidity. But Darian never withdrew his sword. Nor did he rant and rave about his incompetence. His Lord merely smoldered in silence as he listened, then directed him to remount his horse. Gavin knew Cheyenne's life depended on their haste, and they were wasting precious time. He also knew Darian would deal with him later, after they ensured her safety. With a stony wall of silence separating the once inseparable companions, they hurried back to the cottage, nearly killing their horses in the process. Gavin prayed it wasn't too late, but his instinct warned something was awry. One thing was for certain, Darian wouldn't need to carry out punishment. He'd gladly take his own life if anything had happened to Cheyenne. **** The sun was starting to sink below the treetops of Zahon Forest when they arrived. Although weary with exhaustion, both of them leaped from their tired steeds and rushed toward the cottage like maniacs. Without words, they quickly separated, each choosing a different area to search. Darian ran around the side toward the flower gardens, and Gavin barged through the entryway, nearly tearing the door from its hinges in his desperation. 353

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He ran up the stairwell toward the bedchambers, taking the steps two and three at a time in his haste. How could I have been so dim-witted? Busting through Cheyenne's bedroom door, he roared with anguish when he found the room was still empty. A small part of him had hoped maybe she was there and all was well. But his optimism quickly disintegrated. After quickly searching the remaining chambers and finding them all just as vacant, he rushed back down to the foyer. Although he was by no means a saint, and likely unworthy of salvation, Gavin prayed to the gods with a desperate plea, begging for Cheyenne's safety. Marge had just stepped from the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about when she nearly collided with him. "What's goin'—" "Marge, where's Cheyenne?" Gavin grabbed the old woman by the shoulders and shook her none too gently. Obviously stunned by his unusually brutal behavior, Marge merely stared back at him a long moment before answering. "I ... I don't know," she stammered. "Ain't she with you?" Her expression turned from confusion to shock when Darian stormed through the front door behind them. Gavin shook his head. "Nay. I got this letter sayin' she'd left an' ... May the gods curse my mangy hide! How could I have been so foolish?" "She's nae outside," Darian announced, breathing heavily from exertion. "An' nae in the stables." He angrily paced the floor with heavy steps and ran a hand through his thick, golden hair. "I swear, if he's harmed 'er I'll—" 354

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"Dinna panic," Marge cut in. Although she was trying to be reassuring, the alarm in her voice was apparent. "She was in the parlor earlier. Have ya tried there? What about out back on the beach?" **** Darian headed for the parlor with Gavin on his heels. He'd almost convinced himself she was safe when he pulled open the doors and was greeted by nothing but an empty room. An ominous feeling weighed heavily in his chest, robbing him of air and nearly blinding him with dread. He knew she was in imminent danger, he could feel it. As Darian strode through the room, searching for some evidence of her possible whereabouts, he glanced out the window in front of his dead father's massive leather armchair. What he saw made his heart drop to his knees and his gut turn icy with distress. Cheyenne's fleeting form was just disappearing into the distant forest with Brine limping in hot pursuit. "Gavin!" He pointed toward the figures. Gavin's features grew taut with panic when he recognized Cheyenne and Brine. All the color drained from his face and Darian knew his friend was imagining his innocent sister fleeing from the bloodthirsty assassin much in the same manner. Only no one saw her, and no one went to her aid. They couldn't let that happen again. Not this time. Brine had to be stopped. Darian and Gavin rushed out the front door and around to the back of the cottage toward the beach, leaving Marge 355

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staring out the window after them with a glazed look of despair shadowing her aged features. As they raced toward the darkening woods, Darian's anguish peaked until it nearly shattered the last shreds of his sanity. He struggled to thwart the sinking feeling of defeat lying in the bottom of his belly like a lead sinker as the forest swallowed all discernable traces of Cheyenne and Brine. They're so far ahead. Panic like he'd never felt before welled in his throat. He knew Cheyenne was defenseless. Just one slash of Brine's sword ... The image made him shudder. He'd never reach her in time. The forest grew dimmer by the second. Soon, they'd be unable to find an entrance. And even if they did, there'd be no way they could track them. Waves of apprehension coursed through his insides. He suddenly felt weak in the face of his helplessness as he thought of Gavin's sister. He just prayed they could find Cheyenne in time to stop Brine from ... The idea was too unsettling. He couldn't even stand to acknowledge it. Then Darian's mood suddenly veered sharply to anger. His lips thinned with determination, nostrils flared with challenge, eyes blazed with fiery defiance. Refusing to give up, he rebuked his fear, focusing instead on his mounting fury. Once invoked, his temper was unstoppable, a rampant tornado that annihilated everything in his path. And right now, Brine was the target of his growing rage. Regardless of Cheyenne's fate, his brother's henchman wouldn't live to see dawn. **** 356

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As Gavin paced beside Darian, he silently cursed him for agreeing to Chris's ridiculous idea. If he hadn't sent them there in the first place, this wouldn't have happened. Didn't he realize how devious Brine was? Of course 'e does, Gavin concluded. That's why 'e sent me instead of someone else. Only I've failed to protect 'er, just as I did Kira. An' now, Cheyenne is gonna pay fer my mistake. Tormenting images of what Brine would do relentlessly plagued him, driving him to move faster. Gavin's body protested as he forced himself to keep running, even when he was beyond weariness. Willing himself onward, he ignored the painful cramps in his legs and the stitch in his side. His only thought was finding Cheyenne. He cared nothing for his own agony. They shoved their way through a narrow opening into the forest's welcoming arms. Gangly tree limbs eagerly awaited them, hungrily grabbing at their exposed, sun-roughed skin with biting thorns. But neither he nor Darian seemed to notice the hinder-some foliage, both of them were more concerned with finding Cheyenne and stopping Brine. Unsheathing their swords, they viciously hacked their way forward. Gavin wanted to cry out with frustration when Cheyenne's ear-piercing scream echoed through the trees around him. The forest was getting darker by the moment, making it nearly impossible to see more than thirty or so feet ahead of them. Soon it would not only be Brine she'd have to contend with. All manner of creatures slipped from their dwellings at 357

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sunset and crept through these woods, searching for their next meal. Darian halted him as he listened intently for the sounds of a struggle. Nothing. No footsteps, no voices, just stillness. The ominous silence was unnerving. They had no idea where the scream had come from. They needed some direction. Come on, lass, he thought fiercely. Help us out here. Both he and Darian jumped in alarm when they heard a second high-pitched shriek. Gavin's body jerked in the direction of the sound. With renewed vigor, he started toward the lead. As he slashed through another thick wall of vines and brush, his pressing frame suddenly stumbled forward, nearly falling to the ground as the barricading foliage finally broke loose and he spilled onto an open pathway. Without stopping to see if Darian had made it through as well, he took off down the trail toward Cheyenne's cry. But Darian had quickly cleared an opening right behind him, and was nearly outrunning him in his frantic race to find Cheyenne before it was too late. An image of Kira's dead body drove him forward, pumping fresh adrenaline through his muscles and fueling his determination. It was more than love that drove him—it was necessity. He wouldn't let her die too. He couldn't. **** Weakened by blood loss, Cheyenne was helpless against Brine. All strength and defiance left her as his hands and 358

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mouth bruised and invaded every inch of her trembling body. It wasn't until he reached for the lacings on his pants that panic urged her to react. Reaching for the knife beside her face, she yanked it out of dirt and slashed it toward his chest. But he easily caught her wrist and slammed her hand against the ground until she released the handle. Then he carelessly picked up the blade and tossed it out of reach. "Ya've got one more, lassie. Care to try fer it now?" His hand trailed down her outer thigh to the knife secured on her leg. "Come on, I'll even give ya a head start," he coaxed, raising his arms beside his ears. Cheyenne's eyes narrowed with blinding anger. She knew he'd get to the knife before she could. He was baiting her, trying to make her give him a reason to use it. But she wasn't stupid. "Nay? That's too bad. I have a blade of my own, ya know," he declared with an impious sneer. A wicked smile curled the corners of his mouth as he took her hand and forced it over his hardened shaft. Brine laughed when she jerked her arm away, seemingly amused. Then he started unlacing his pants. Cheyenne couldn't bear to watch. She turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Chris hadn't even gotten this far. Darian had arrived just in time. But there'd be no deliverance again. No one knew she needed help. "Dinna ya like what I have fer ya?" Brine's tone was slick with mockery. 359

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Cheyenne's head jerked forward. She glared daggers at him. "You have nothing I want!" Her teeth clenched with disgust. Obviously furious by her persistent defiance, Brine reared back his arm. "Although I'd prefer ya awake, I'll gladly beat ya insensible if I have to. Yer insolence is unacceptable." He paused only briefly before swinging it downward. Cheyenne's mind swooned and unconsciousness clouded her brain when his fist slammed against her jaw. She vaguely registered Brine lifting his arm again. Closing her eyes, she prayed for rescue and braced herself for the next blow. I love you, Darian. But the weight of Brine's body was suddenly lifted from hers. Cheyenne barely recognized Gavin's form as she saw both men roll away and then quickly jump to their feet. She watched through a foggy haze as Brine retrieved the knife he'd thrown aside earlier, and then turned toward Gavin, ready to fight. He reminded her of a panther as he circled, slowly and gracefully sizing up his opponent before lunging for the kill. Although she feared for Gavin's safety and wanted to watch, her eyes felt heavy. Their figures gradually began to blur until they became nothing more than dancing blobs of color. Feeling someone lightly touch her neck, Cheyenne slowly turned her head to look upward. She thought she saw her Golden Hercules hovering above, but before she was sure, her eyelids fluttered closed and nothingness gripped her brain as she floated into merciful oblivion. **** 360

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Darian breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the faint pulse in Cheyenne's throat. They had managed to stop Brine from raping her, but it was obvious she'd endured a brutal beating. "I'm sorry," he whispered as he stroked the hair from her face. Part of him wanted to run the mongrel through with a sword himself, but he knew Brine's death belonged to Gavin. It would be unfair to take that satisfaction away from his friend. Besides, his main concern was Cheyenne. She was safe now, and that's all that mattered. Darian's hand trembled as he softly ran his fingertips along her marred skin, tenderly touching each bruise as though his mere caress might in some way heal her battered flesh. He inhaled a shaky breath as he imagined the agony she'd suffered before they'd found her. Pulling her shredded dress around her naked form as best as he could, he carefully lifted her from the ground and walked down the trail, away from Gavin and Brine. He didn't even look back as he heard the two men fighting behind him. Only one would walk away from this battle, and there was no doubt in his mind as to who it would be. **** "How far did ya get?" Brine taunted as he scooped up the discarded knife. Gavin's jaw tightened with fury when his opponent pointed out his mistake. "Doesn't matter, ya still didn't get what ya 361

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wanted. An' now ya ne'er will," he shot back, tossing his sword on the ground and unsheathing the blade at his waist. "I'll bet ya think of it, nay? Ya wonder what it would be like to taste 'er breasts an' touch 'er softness," Brine accused. "Admit it! I saw the way ya look at 'er. If it wasn't fer Darian, you'd be here with 'er instead of me." Gavin's voice lowered to a threatening growl. "I'm naught like you. A woman's body should be caressed, nae beaten." Brine shrugged indifferently. "So we have different ways of acquirin' what we desire. We both want the same thin'." He nodded toward Darian's retreating backside. "He's all that stands in yer way." Gavin was outraged by Brine's suggestion. With a cry of fury, he lunged. Although he wanted his enemy to suffer for what he'd done to Cheyenne, Gavin's true purpose was to avenge his sister. He'd made a promise to Kira's spirit. It was time to fulfill that vow. Brine tried to sidestep his attack, but the wound in his leg slowed him down and he couldn't escape the slash to his side. With a pained gasp, he jabbed his knife outward, inflicting his own injury to Gavin's arm. Then Brine stumbled back a few feet and touched the gash above his hip. It was large, but not deep. He laughed as he brought his fingertips to his lips, tasting his own blood. "'Tis sweet, but nae so much as Kira's was." Gavin roared with anger. His fist connected with Brine's jaw, knocking him back a few more feet. But his foe was no amateur when it came to combat. He quickly retaliated, 362

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shooting forward to deal his own blow to Gavin's ribs, which nearly doubling him over. They sparred back and forth, each landing punches and small slashes to their opponent until they were both heaving with exhaustion and fighting on sheer willpower. Although Gavin had received several deep cuts, many of which would require stitching, Brine had suffered a more serious injury. The wound on his side had opened and was bleeding profusely. The precious fluid saturated his thigh and trailed down to his boot. Brine knew he was in trouble, too. It was obvious he was loosing too much blood, making him a weak opponent. "Curse that wench fer stabbin' me!" Gavin laughed, pleased Cheyenne had apparently used the knife he'd given her. She obviously hurt Brine more than he'd thought. He only wished she'd have the pleasure of watching her attacker die. Brine's eyes started to swim as he concentrated on thwarting him. Gavin could tell his hated nemesis was nearly at his limit. He expected the inevitable last attempt to come at any moment. When Brine let out a shriek and charged at him, blade aimed at his chest, he knew it was time to finish it. Easily brushing aside the weak jab, Gavin spun around and dropped to his knee. Grabbing his sword from the ground, he plunged the tip backward, burying it deep within Brine's abdomen. Brine's breath caught in his throat as the blade enter his gut. He grasped the protruding sword with both hands and stumbled backward. Jerking the embedded object out of his 363

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belly, he stared at it as though not believing he'd just lost and was going to die. The bloody sword fell, unheeded, from his trembling palms, and the air escaped his lips in a long drawnout hiss before he fell, face down, in the dirt. Gavin walked over to Brine's motionless figure and rolled him over with the toe of his dusty boot. Picking up the fallen sword, he raised it above his head and paused. Brine's eyes were starting to glaze as death slowly crept into his limbs. His shimmery gaze slowly turned to Gavin's face and his lips moved silently as though speaking a last prayer. Gavin felt nothing as he looked upon Brine's dying body. "Fer Kira," he whispered softly, and plunged the sword into Brine's heart. Brine inhaled sharply. His body jolted when the blade entered his chest and then exited his back, striking the ground beneath him. As his head lulled to the side, his eyes clouded over and his life slipped away like a fleeting dream. With no remorse, Gavin yanked the sword from Brine's dead body and rubbed the blade across his own cheeks, smearing his enemy's blood across his face. Holding the blade above his head, he let out a victorious battle cry. It was done at last. With his revenge complete, Gavin's concern turned to Cheyenne. Re-sheathing his sword, he started down the path to the cottage. He prayed she was all right. Brine had a heavy fist, and he was sure he'd hit her at least once, maybe more. ****

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Far off in the distance, Darian heard Gavin's cry of victory. His jaw tightened and the corner of his mouth pulled up with satisfaction. Brine is dead. As Darian mounted the steps to the cottage, he looked down at Cheyenne's injured shoulder. The knife wound was deep. It would require stitching. But at least the bleeding had nearly stopped. She was lucky the blade hadn't entered lower. It was obvious Brine's intent had been to hurt, not kill. He'd succeeded—in more ways than one. Darian shuddered. His gaze shifted to her bruised face. For some strange reason, it reminded him of Crystal. Maybe his brother hadn't been the one to beat her so badly. Brine had been there that night, he was sure of it. He shook his head, dismissing the unimportant details. It was no matter. Chris's cruelty far surpassed any of his wicked armsmen's. His blows tended to land with calculated precision and smarted for many passes. Before Darian could dwell any further on the irreparable canyon between him and his brother, Marge burst out the door in a panic. "May the gods have mercy upon us! What's happened?" She quickly ushered him into the parlor. Before answering, Darian gingerly laid Cheyenne down on a sofa. Then he pulled a chair up next to her and collapsed in it. "Brine," was all he said. Marge let out an anguished cry. "Ya dinna think 'e—" "Nay," Darian replied crisply, cutting her off.

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"Bless the gods." She lifted her aged hands toward the heavens in a salute of gratitude. "I'll get some hot water an' clean rags." Then she rushed from the room. It irritated him that Marge's main concern was for Cheyenne's virtue. It seemed as though everyone's only consideration was securing the birth of the prophesied child. No one had treated her like a human being, but rather an inanimate object, a prize to be won by the strongest contestant. A slave. His heart lay heavy in his chest as he realized even he was guilty of such atrocious behavior. They were all wrong, so very wrong. If this woman was to bear a great king, then she herself was nothing less than a queen, and should be treated as such. It was not she who should be grateful so many wished to claim her, but rather they who should grovel on the ground beneath her skirts, for the fruit of her womb would deliver them all into a world of harmony and peace. Darian understood now why Cheyenne had been so hurt by his words. After Gavin had told him of her reaction, he'd wanted to kick himself. It was no wonder she'd rushed from the room without letting him explain. She thought he only cared about the prophecy and siring the bairn. But that simply wasn't true. A day didn't go by that he didn't wish the prophecy was wrong or that she wasn't the right woman. The last week had been nothing short of torture. Every day he'd moped around Chris's castle, wondering if she were safe, worrying about her solitude with Gavin, and fearing he'd lose 366

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her in the end. Only the memory of their lovemaking had kept him going. Each night, his dreams had been filled with the sounds of her musical laughter and passionate sighs, the feel of her soft skin and silky hair, the scent of her delicate lavender perfume and arousing feminine musk, and the love that had shone so openly and brightly in her beautiful indigo eyes. Sleep had been the only thing keeping him sane. The prophecy meant nothing to him. He wanted her, her and no one else. Because ... Because I love 'er. More than he'd ever loved anyone. More than he'd ever thought possible. More than he was capable of denying. Why had he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it before? It would have made things between them so much simpler if he'd just confessed this to her that night they'd made love. Why? Because I'm an arse. The reason was quite clear, arrogance and uncertainty had stilled his tongue. His blasted male ego wouldn't allow him to place his heart on display, making him vulnerable once again, and giving her the opportunity to rip it out and discard it like useless refuse. But his pride had been wrong. Cheyenne was different. Hadn't he known that from the moment he'd seen her standing above him on that hilltop like an ethereal goddess? How stupid he'd been. How coldhearted, brutal, and utterly stupid. Sadly shaking his head, he only prayed she could forgive him for all he'd done to her.

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Darian stood and paced the room, cursing himself for being such an idiot. I ne'er should have agreed to Chris's barmy deal! It wouldn't matter if she was pregnant or not, his brother would never uphold his end of the bargain. Hadn't he learned that a long time ago? He should have taken Cheyenne home and married her before anyone else had discovered her identity. Scooting the chair out of his way, he squatted down beside Cheyenne's sleeping form and stared at her for a long while. She seemed so peaceful. So innocent. She didn't deserve the things that had happened to her. An' she certainly deserves someone better than me. Darian sat back heavily on his haunches. He knew marrying her wouldn't have solved things either. The people of Zandar were very superstitious, and they believed in all the ancient prophecies. The marriage would have been overlooked, and he still would have had to fight to keep her. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, he attempted to ward off the weariness that crept into his brain. He'd come up with something. He just had to. There was no way he could stomach losing her again. Hearing the sound of rushing footsteps, Darian looked up just as Gavin burst into the room. He managed a weak smile and nod of his head before returning his attention back to Cheyenne. His eyes focused on the steady rise and fall of her chest as he listened intently to the soft whisper of her breathing. "She all right?" Gavin asked stiffly. 368

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Darian glanced up and shook his head. He really didn't know if she was or not. "She's got a knife wound on 'er shoulder. It'll need stitchin'." When Gavin approached the couch and saw how badly she'd been beaten, his bloody fist flew to his mouth. "Auck! May the gods curse me with an eternity of pain, fer I've no worth beyond the fiery gates of Hades. Her sufferin' is my burden, an' I shall gladly carry it forever if she doesn't survive." Then Gavin sank to his knees beside him. "An' I shall surely be there beside ya, my friend," Darian replied sadly. "Fer I've no where else to go if I lose 'er." Darian returned his attention to Cheyenne. He picked up one of her tiny hands and held it within his large palm, instantly noticing her nails were torn and bleeding. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out an anguished groan as he thought of her fighting for her life against an unbeatable opponent. It was the first time in a long while he felt the moisture of hot tears sting his own lids. Gavin slowly unsheathed his sword and handed it to him, then he bowed his head with humility. Not sure what his armsman intended, Darian took hold of the intricately carved handle and looked at the man who'd been a life-long friend and faithful warrior with questioning eyes. "I'm to blame, m'Lord. I've failed you. I accept whatever punishment ya deem necessary." Darian pushed himself to his feet. His hand trembled slightly as he held the sword above the back of Gavin's neck. Shaking his head, he dropped the blade to the floor. It landed 369

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with an echoing clang. Then he placed a reassuring palm on his warrior's shoulder. "Nay, my friend. It is I who've failed ya both. I ne'er should have agreed to this. I alone am to blame." Gavin's shoulders shook violently. Refusing to meet Darian's gaze, he kept his own cast to the floor. "Yer a good friend, m'Lord. A merciful an' forgivin' leader. But I've tainted our friendship an' betrayed yer trust." Darian smiled to himself. "What is it, my friend?" he asked lightly, knowing Gavin had something to confess. He could only imagine what it would be. But how could he blame him? She had, after all, managed to capture his heart as well. Even after he'd vowed never to love again. He wondered if any man was immune to her naïve charm.

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CHAPTER 27 Cheyenne's eyes fluttered open as she felt a cool cloth press against her cheek. Her vision swam and she had to fight back the nausea rising in her throat as dawning awareness also brought excruciating pain. Raising a shaky hand to her forehead, she rubbed her temple in an attempt to quell the pounding in her brain. She smiled weakly up at Gavin who hovered above her, cloth in hand. Then, as her head rolled to the side, she caught sight of a familiar form. Blinking with surprise, Cheyenne focused on the figure sleeping in the chair beside her bed. "Darian?" Darian jerked to attention at the soft whisper of his name. Jumping to his feet, he was instantly at her side. He kneeled by the bed and sighed with relief when he saw her gaze was clear and trained directly on him. "Hi there," he offered with a husky drawl. Cheyenne tentatively returned his smile. She struggled to turn on her side, wincing at the pain in her shoulder, and then pushed herself to her elbow. Her thick hair fell forward around her cheeks, partially covering her face. "When did you..." Noticing the blanket had slipped to her waist and she wore nothing beneath, Cheyenne blushed with embarrassment. Darian's breath seemed to catch in his throat as his gaze fell to her naked breasts. "I ... I had a feelin' you was in trouble," he stuttered, gently pulling the blanket back up for 371

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her. "Even though I was breakin' the bargain with Chris, I had to come. I met Gavin about halfway here. He thought ya'd left to go back to Warban an' was gonna stop ya, but Brine had—" Cheyenne somberly nodded her head. "I know." Fear gripped her insides once again and she began to shake as the memory of Brine's attack suddenly sprang to life in her mind. "He told me when he was—" Her words were a strained whisper. Darian gently pressed his finger against her lips. "Shhh ... Dinna speak of it. It doesn't matter now. Brine is dead. He'll ne'er hurt ya again. I'm just glad Gavin an' I found ya before 'e—" Cheyenne's eyes clouded with angry tears. Even now it seemed his only concern was that silly prophecy. Dejected, she collapsed onto her back with a tired sigh and turned her face away from him. The pain in her shoulder was nothing compared to the wretched misery in her heart. She'd nearly fooled herself into thinking he cared about her. Her gaze fell to Gavin. He'd retreated to stand quietly in the corner. His large frame nervously shifted from one foot to the other as he dropped his gaze to the floor in an effort to avoid her piercing glare. Was that his concern also? That maybe she'd bear Brine's child? The thought outraged her. "What if you didn't get there in time?" she asked suddenly. She turned back to Darian, instantly taking in his shocked expression. "What if Brine did ... what if I carry his child. Does that change anything?" Her eyes bore into his as she waited for his reply. 372

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"But I thought we—" he stammered. "What bothers you more, Darian? The fact Brine touched me or that you won't father this miracle child everyone seems to think will spring from my loins and save the world?" Her body trembled with anger. **** Darian winced as purple sparks flashed through Cheyenne's livid glare. He knew she spoke out of pain and confusion. But her defiant claims were a farce. Struggling to contain his mirth as he noted how beautiful and radiant she was in her fury, he decided it was time to confess his true feelings and put an end to her misguided beliefs. "Leave us," Darian commanded, fixing his friend with a stern gaze. Gavin nodded his head and started for the door. "Why don't you both leave?" Cheyenne suggested coolly. "I don't feel like having company." There was defiance in her tone as well as a subtle challenge. Darian refused to let her cold dismissal deter him. He wasn't leaving until they settled the misunderstandings between them, one way or another. "My brother will no doubt be here on the morrow. I want to spend every moment with ya I can. When 'e gets here, he'll insist on a chaperone at all times. At least 'til we know whether or nae yer—" "Pregnant?" Cheyenne shot back. "I doubt I am. I imagine it'll only be another day, two at the most, before you have your answer." 373

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Darian couldn't help the disappointment that marred his features. "Yer sure?" he choked, hating the misery in his voice as he felt an instant sense of loss over something that had never existed. Cheyenne grit her teeth. "Yes," she hissed through clenched jaws. Darian reached out and cupped her cheek, caressing the smooth skin with his thumb. "I'll have to accept Chris's challenge. But nae to worry, I refuse to lose." Cheyenne rolled onto her side away from him and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Please go," she begged softly. Darian looked at her trembling backside. Why couldn't he make himself say the words? Was it so hard? If he'd just tell her he loved her, then her pain would end. But would his begin? A tense silence enveloped the room. "Cheyenne, I..." The words refused to leave his lips. Say it! his mind screamed when he noticed her spine became rigid, as though bracing for another blow. The strain between them was climbing with intensity, like a volcano on the verge of erupting. Darian knew his next choice of words would either end her suffering or destroy her completely. After a long silence, Cheyenne turned back over to face him. "You what?" Her expression was a mixture of hope and dread. When Darian saw the hurt and longing exposed in her pleading gaze, he couldn't hold back the truth. "I love you." 374

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He said the words quietly, tentatively, as if at first testing the idea. Realizing his heart hadn't exploded with the admission, he repeated them again, finally accepting the inevitable. "I love you, Cheyenne. I dinna care about the prophecy. I want to hold ya forever an' ne'er let ya go. I want to marry you an' make ya mine. Nae because of what ya are, but because of who ya are, an' how I feel about ya." Darian gently took her hand and placed it on his chest, pressing it lightly above the steady beat that pounded within. "You complete me an' make me whole. Ya've put love back into my heart. Only what ya've given me is somethin' I ne'er had before, with anyone. Yer my destiny, my life. Without you, I'm naught. Please, Cheyenne, please forgive me fer bein' such an arse. Marry me an' be mine. Because I love ya." **** Cheyenne's lower lip trembled with uncertainty. She was too startled by his proposal to offer any reply. She merely stared, tongue-tied, as his eyes suddenly filled with fireworks of adoration and his firm mouth softened with a tender smile. The sincerity of his words siphoned the blood from her face, leaving her feeling pale and drained. Too shocked to respond, she was frozen in limbo where all decisions and actions were impossible. Her anger quickly evaporated into nothingness, leaving only blank confusion and lingering hopes. She lowered her gaze as her mind spun with hesitancy. A tumble of mixed thoughts and feelings assailed her, leaving 375

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her reeling with internal chaos. His nearness was disturbing, making it impossible to think. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around his neck and yell the word he longed to hear. But the other part was reserved, unsure if what he spoke was the truth. Could she believe his seemingly genuine confession? Or was this merely another calculated ploy? The memory of his callous words in Warban returned. He'd injured her deeply, and those wounds were still too raw to allow her to trust. Not wanting to fall so easily into another betrayal, she felt herself retreat away from him. I need time to think. As though noticing the doubt mirrored in her hesitant gaze, Darian reached forward and slipped his finger under a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. With a gentle caress, he pushed the defiant wisp behind her shoulder. "I s'pose ya have reason to feel apprehensive about my sudden profession. I dinna blame ya." A shiver coursed through her insides as Cheyenne felt him brush the hair from her neck. She noticed his hand lingered a little too long to be an accident. His fingertips trailed across her bare skin, sliding upward to her cheek. She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her throat as he cupped her jaw with his warm palm and ran his thumb across her trembling lips. **** Darian struggled against the burning desire racing through his insides, setting him aflame like a hungry inferno. A sense 376

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of urgency drove him to near madness, making him as eager and erratic as a turbulent summer storm. It was all he could do to restrain his need. He wanted to crush her to him and demand she submit to his every wish. He wanted to touch and taste each inch of her, making the tormenting dreams of last week become a reality. He wanted to bury himself within the moist haven of her feminine sheath, and ride on clouds of passion until his spirit reached the heavens above. Willing himself to be patient, he slowly curled his fingers in her silky hair and leaned forward. His lips brushed lightly across hers in a soft drugging kiss, opening the doorway for her passion to either float through like the gentle ripple of a cool forest spring, steady and constant; or cascade forward like an urgent waterfall, spiraling and unstoppable. Although his need was beyond denial and his invitation far from subtle, the decision was ultimately hers. **** Cheyenne felt his mouth touch hers like a cottony whisper. The tenderness sang through her veins, leaving her breathless and shaken. Her mind whirled as she was buffeted by the winds of a savage harmony. She felt herself sway toward him, her body yearning to join with his. Parting her lips, she gave in to his soul-reaching kiss. After several long and tantalizing moments, he finally released her lips. "I know I hurt ya with my foolishness," he said softly, his voice a warm breath against her neck. "The 377

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words I said were spoken out of anger an' stubborn male pride." Raising his head, he gazed into her eyes. "Whether ya was standin' there or nae, I ne'er should have referred to ya in such a disrespectful manner. What we shared was special, an' I tarnished it with my cruelty. Can ya forgive me?" Cheyenne wanted to believe the sincerity in his expression, but a cynical inner voice warned he was a master of persuasion, a champion of seduction. The brutal memory of his words burned in her mind, making her all the more confused and distraught. How could she trust him after what he'd said? How did she know he wasn't lying now, just to get what he wanted? Unable to withstand the pleading in his taut expression, she turned her face to the side. "Why didn't you tell your brother how you really felt? Instead of making me sound cheap?" Her voice cracked as a tiny sob hiccupped from her throat. Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne attempted to regain control of her raging emotions. Unshed tears swam in the depths of her eyes, making her vision shimmer as she fixed him with a pained glare. "I'd never felt so ashamed of myself as I did standing in that room with Thor and Chris staring at me like I'd committed some horrible crime." Darian recoiled as though she'd slapped him. "Auck! I could handle the pain of yer fist more so than that which assails my soul." Running a hand through his long golden tresses, he plopped down on the edge of the bed with a frustrated sigh. 378

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"I should have told ya how I felt, before I met with Chris. I guess I was afraid of bein' hurt. I know yer naught like Serena, but dinna ya understand? If I'd told my brother how much ya meant to me, he'd have been all the more adamant about takin' ya fer 'imself, one way or another." Darian's face suddenly became somber and he glanced away as his body shook with some unspoken grief. "Chris will stop at naught to take ya away if 'e knows how much I love ya. Do ya understand? I can't bear the thought of—" The anguish of his voice was more than she could stand. Cheyenne knew he spoke the truth. His body wouldn't tremble if he were lying. A man such as he didn't need fancy words to melt a woman's heart. All it took was one smoldering look. "Darian," she whispered softly, placing a hand on his forearm. When he looked at her, Cheyenne noticed the raw fear mirrored in his tired gaze. He looked drained and weary, as though he hadn't slept in days. Suddenly, she felt very selfish. Had he been as miserable as she over the last week? With a nervous smile, she scooted over, giving him room to lie down beside her. Darian lay stiffly on his back, seemingly afraid to even breathe lest his restraint break free and he ravish her, willing or not. Didn't he realize how just being near him drove her insane as well? Even in her injured state, she could think of nothing but loving and touching him. Biting back a hiss of pain as she rolled onto her side, Cheyenne propped herself above him. Her hair tumbled 379

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forward and spilled across his face, momentarily burying his handsome features in a thick mass of black silk. She couldn't help but laugh when he coughed and sputtered, as though drowning in the ebony waterfall. "Sorry," she giggled, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Cheyenne studied his face with her fingers, brushing across his brow, his jaw, his mouth. You love this man, her mind suddenly proclaimed. As though afraid he might disappear from beneath her palm, she leaned forward and captured his lips with her own. Her kiss was far from tender or gentle. She eagerly devoured the velvet warmth of his mouth, tracing the sensual line of his lips with her tongue before demanding entrance to explore the recesses inside. Cheyenne was nearly overcome by her own driving need before she halted her arduous assault. She wanted to taste and touch every inch of this glorious man, but there was one more thing she needed to tell him before they continued, and she wanted his full attention when she said it. She placed her finger against Darian's lips when he started to protest. "Shhh..." Cheyenne closed her eyes and tenderly brushed her cheek across his stubbled jaw, moving toward his ear. Resisting the urge to nibble playfully at the lobe, she slid her hands under his head and cradled it in her palms. "Aye," she whispered huskily. Darian buried his face in her hair and crushed her to him. "Aye!" The word was an excited confirmation. "Ya've made 380

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me a happy mon, lass." Then he inhaled deeply, seemingly drinking in her scent. "Ya smell so clean, so pure, like—" "Can't breathe!" Cheyenne cut in jokingly. "Just don't say like soft jasmine, okay?" Darian laughed and rolled over so she was partially beneath him. "Anythin' ya want, m'Lady. I can think of a few other thin's to describe ya, an none of 'em have anythin' to do with flowers." His eyes sparkled with mischief and Cheyenne couldn't help but giggle in response. "You, m'Lord, are a shameless rogue!" Darian gave her a wicked smile, then propped himself up with one arm. He gently touched the bandaged wound on her shoulder. "Are ya hurtin'?" Cheyenne smiled shyly. "Not much," she lied. "I know we're nae s'posed to—" "I won't tell, if you won't." Cheyenne gave him the most alluring come hither look she could muster. Apparently, it worked. Darian slowly slid the covers downward, exposing her completely to his starving gaze. His mouth curled into another sinful smile. "Nae a chance," he replied. Tonight, she wouldn't worry about his brother or the prophecy. She was his alone and she intended on making love to him until dawn. Cheyenne didn't know what tomorrow would bring, or the next day after. All that mattered was she was in Darian's arms right now. She felt his hand tremble with eagerness as it curled around one of her breasts. With a sigh of strained control, his 381

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lips touched her nipple with tantalizing possessiveness. Drawing the sensitive tip into his mouth, he sucked gently until the rosy peak grew to pebble hardness. Then he moved to the other, renewing his exquisite torture. Cheyenne wriggled and squirmed as Darian's tongue caressed her tingling flesh. Wanting to feel his skin against hers, she yanked at the hem of his shirt with impatience until he stopped to remove the offending garment. She sighed with content as she felt his hair-roughened chest brush against her ribs. Darian's hand slid down the curve of her side to the swell of her hips, meticulously searching for pleasure points. The stroke of his fingers sent heated jolts of excitement through her insides, and her body instinctively arched toward him with anticipation. Cheyenne moaned softly as he explored the soft lines of her waist and thighs. Her whole body seemed to be filled with waiting as his palm slid with maddening slowness to the dark curls of her feminine vee. She could already feel the tightening of her abdomen when his fingers touched the pink flesh of her womanhood. Darian gently parted her delicate petals and slipped a finger inside her. Her hips instinctively rocked against his hand. She was already close to coming. He slowly caressed her insides as his lips traced a sensuous path down her abdomen. As though wanting to taste her release, he tentatively touched her throbbing nub with the tip of his tongue. 382

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Cheyenne inhaled sharply when she felt the intimate caress of Darian's mouth. Heat spread across her belly and into her groin like the flow of molten lava. And her hands gripped the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white. She arched her back as she began to burn with the liquid fire of mounting arousal. With a lusty cry, her body exploded in a burst of ecstasy. Gusts of desire shook her insides as she abandoned herself to the whirling sensations. Darian firmly held her hips as her body shuddered with orgasmic bliss. It wasn't until her head thrashed from side to side and she sobbed with exhaustion that he halted his assault. Releasing her thighs, he slid up her trembling form and captured her lips, letting her taste the heady flavor of her own sweet honey. As the spasms in her belly began to subside, Cheyenne's hands slipped up his chest and tangled in his hair. Her fingers briefly caressed the strong tendons in his neck before gliding down the length of his back. She loved the feel of his strong contours, and she wanted to explore his body as he had hers. With soft pouts of impatience, she writhed beneath him, eager to touch his skin. As though sensing her wish, Darian rolled onto his back, then took her hands and encouraged them to remove his pants. As her awkward but eager fingers began a lust arousing exploration, he closed his eyes and exhaled an anguished moan. It seemingly took everything he had to submit to her innocent investigation without losing all sense of self-restraint. "Auck! Yer drivin' me barmy, lass. Do ya ken?" 383

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Cheyenne giggled. His admission filled her with a strange excitement. She liked knowing she made him tremble with as much need and desire as he did her. Her fingers lightly traced a path over his tanned skin with naïve examination. As her hand neared his groin, she paused, waiting for permission to touch him as intimately as he had her. His tormented groan was a thrilling invitation. Ever so gently, she wrapped her finger around his hardened shaft, marveling at how the size of him filled her palm. His arousal was enormous, and she nearly jerked back when a shudder coursed through his body like an electrical shock. A sudden sense of dominance spiraled through her brain as she realized the control she had over him. With an impish grin, she pulled her hair back and leaned forward. Although she was aware of what men enjoyed, Cheyenne had no idea how to begin. Since she loved the way Darian teased her before reaching his destination, she decided to try his tactic. With tiny but firm nibbles, she worked her way down his lower abdomen and across his hip. She couldn't help but smile with satisfaction when she heard his sharp intake of air when she reached the bend in his groin. "Cheyenne..." he whispered tersely. She paused only briefly before delivering another torturous bite to his sensitive inner thigh. His whole body tensed and she noticed his abdomen caved in sharply, as though she'd tickled him. Hmm ... She lightly clamped the delicate flesh between her teeth once again. 384

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He let out a deep tormented laugh and quickly covered the spot with his hand. "I'm warnin' ya, woman!" he teased lightly. "Okay, okay." Cheyenne laughed as she brushed his reluctant fingers away. "I'll stop." For now. Biting her lower lip, she debated on moving to her next target. She wanted so badly to give him as much pleasure as he'd given her, but she felt awkward and shy. Brushing her uncertainty aside, she decided to let instinct guide her. **** Darian choked on his own shock when he felt her lips brush lightly against him. When her mouth closed around him, surrounding him with warm moisture, he knew he was nearly to his limit. Fearing inability to hold his release, he gently took hold of her shoulders and urged her to stop. Cheyenne hesitated. Then her cheeks turned scarlet. "Did I do something wrong?" "It's nae you," Darian quickly reassured. "I just can't hold back any longer. Nae with ya doin' that." He coaxed her upward until she lay on top of him. Cheyenne looked down at him with large, questioning eyes. "Did you like it?" she asked innocently, seemingly unaware of how arousing her naiveté was. Darian rolled his eyes upward with a vulnerable plea. "God's teeth, woman, but yer a puckish wench!" "I thought I was mulish?" Cheyenne countered.

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With a throaty growl, he curled one palm behind her head and pulled her toward him. Then he captured her lips with breathless urgency. Cheyenne wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with just as much fervor until they both panted for air. "Even ... the pain in my shoulder ... seems dull compared ... to the ache of desire ... burning deep within me," she declared, gasping for breath. Her confession was nearly his undoing. As he took in her flushed skin, swollen lips, and dilated pupils, Darian shuddered. If he hadn't the proof of her innocence, he'd swear she was the best seductress he'd ever encountered. Then she leaned down and kissed him again. "Please, Darian," she whispered against his mouth. The soft pleading of her voice was his ruin. Taking care not to hurt her shoulder, he rolled her onto her back. Then he gently nudged her legs apart and positioned himself between them. His hands slipped beneath her, cupping her buttocks and raising them upward. With as much reserve as he could muster, he slowly slid the entire length of himself into her satiny sheath. Cheyenne eagerly welcomed him into her body. As their flesh melted together and they became one soul, Darian felt an overwhelming sense of rightness. He was exactly where he belonged. The pain of his past no longer seemed significant. All that mattered was the woman beneath him. Her hips eagerly rose to meet his thrusts, matching his fevered urgency with her own unsated needs until they found a tempo that bound their bodies together and were lost in 386

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their own passion-filled world. He breathed in deep souldrenching drafts as golden waves of unbridled love flowed between them, bathing him in the warmth of divine peace and utmost joy. Darian felt her insides begin to tighten and heard a soft moan of anticipation escape her lips when the pre-orgasmic tremors course through her lower abdomen and into her groin. Her breaths became pants as the sensations apparently grew to explosive proportions. He knew it wouldn't be long. As though shocked by a surge of electricity, her body suddenly convulsed and she cried out his name with release. Quickening his pace, Darian eagerly surrendered himself to the hot tides of passion raging through his insides and found his own pleasure. His lusty moans blended into a chiming chorus with hers as he was drenched with tidal waves of bliss. His mind careened in a dizzying whirl as gusts of desire shook his limbs and he soared to a whole new shuddering ecstasy. But the feeling was much more than sexual fulfillment. It was as though she'd shattered the last remaining barrier to his heart and laid a permanent claim to his soul. Exhaling with satisfaction, he collapsed on top of her and nuzzled his face into the welcoming mass of black silk sprawled across the pillow beside her cheek. For a long time he lay perfectly still, enjoying the smell of her skin and the feel of her moist body beneath his. He was astonished with the sense of fulfillment their joining had given him. There was no question as to what he 387

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wanted or whether it was right. Cheyenne was meant to be his. Kismet. "Darian?" Cheyenne asked after several long moments of silence. "Hmm..." "Do you think Chris will come tomorrow?" He could hear the fear in her voice. "I'm surprised he's nae already here," Darian replied, feeling his body tense at the mention of his brother. He'd never ducked a challenge before, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to take Cheyenne and run away. "Do you think he'll still demand you fight him? Couldn't we lie and say I'm already pregnant?" With his face still buried next to her throat, he shook his head. "I wish it were that easy. He would demand confirmation by a midwife. An' even then 'e probably wouldn't care if ya were. Chris is persistent 'til 'e gets what 'e wants. He's always been that way. I s'pose it's one thin' we have in common." Cheyenne was quiet a long moment, as though pondering his words. "So if you fight him and win, then will he stop?" Darian sighed heavily and pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked down at her for several moments, memorizing every detail of her lovely face before finally answering with a sad shake of his head. "Nay." A glazed look of despair slowly spread across her features. Her dark lashes quickly dropped to hide the tears of 388

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frustration pooling in her eyes. Then she turned on her side away from him. "I was afraid of that." A tiny sob drifted through the air. "Cheyenne," Darian whispered, imploring her to look at him. He gently rolled her back toward him. When she raised a panic-filled gaze, he felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness squeezed his chest until he nearly gasped for air. "I willna let anyone take ya away from me. Do ya understand? No one," he declared fiercely. **** Disturbing quakes rippled through Cheyenne's serenity. Her heart felt like a lead weight within her breast as she swallowed the lump of despair welling in her throat. Attempting a weak smile, she solemnly nodded her head. She wondered if he knew how desperately she needed him, loved him. Pulling him downward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as she fought to quell the tremors of distress wracking her insides. She was on the verge of telling him how she felt, but her words were lost and her melancholic thoughts fragmented as his hands and lips began another lust arousing exploration of her already tingling limbs. She felt passion rising within her once again like the hottest fire, stealing her voice, monopolizing her thoughts, and clouding her brain. Yielding to the burning desire that eagerly leapt to life at his expert seduction, she pushed aside all fears and doubts of their 389

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future and surrendered herself to his sweet rapture.

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CHAPTER 28 Cheyenne squinted and blinked her eyes in defiance as the early morning sun crept into her room and kissed her cheeks. She winced at the pain in her right arm. It throbbed from her shoulder down to her fingertips. Perhaps last night's affairs had been a little too strenuous. Biting back a sharp yelp as she rolled over, she reached for Darian. Her hand stopped in mid-air when she realized he was gone. But in his place was a large bouquet of wildflowers. Smiling at the simple but thoughtful gift, she picked up the group of purple blooms and held the aromatic bundle to her nose. Inhaling their gentle scent, she filled her nostrils with the fragrance of lavender. As her eyes closed, Cheyenne envisioned Darian out at the crack of dawn, gathering her surprise. The idea was comical, and she couldn't help the tiny giggle that escaped her lips. What would the rest of his men think of their fearless leader if they saw him playing in the flowers? She wondered if he'd snuck out even before Gavin had gotten up. Laughing again at the amusing image, Cheyenne pushed herself up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around her naked frame. She crossed the room to the dressing table, instantly noticing the fresh water and linen lying on the pearly marble surface.

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Dipping her hand into the washbasin, she found the water was still warm. Although she'd prefer a complete bath, this would have to suffice. Besides, she needed to tend her injury. Cheyenne lightly fingered the bandage on her shoulder, cringing as pain shot through her arm. Infected. She groaned, dreading what she had to do next. She plopped down heavily onto the rose-colored, velvet stool and began removing the soiled dressing. Dried blood made the material stiff and difficult. It stuck to her tender wound. Drops of sweat beaded her brow as she slowly tugged the reluctant fabric away. When she reached the bottom layer, Cheyenne saw that the bandage was completely saturated. There's no way that's coming off without taking my hide too! Wishing she had some morphine, or at least a shot of whiskey, she set about the task of removing the last stubborn layer of dressing with a determined grunt. First, she unfolded a towel and laid it across her lap. Then, she dipped a small hand-cloth into the washbasin until it was soaked and dripping. Pressing the wet fabric against the blood-encrusted bandage on her arm, she squeezed, drenching the stiff binding until it softened. After repeating the process several times, the hesitant material finally fell away. Cheyenne stared into the mirror at the festered wound on her shoulder. Someone had attempted to stitch the edges together. The suture pattern was similar to the one she'd used on Darian's thigh. 392

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She thought about Gavin. Did he try to treat my wound? She smiled and lightly traced the meticulous stitching. He learns fast. With a heavy sigh, she pondered the swollen flesh around the edges. Since she was sure there were no anesthetics in this strange world, and she didn't relish the thought of suffering through the re-stitching drug free, she really didn't want to re-open it. Cheyenne propped her elbow on the table's surface and rested her forehead in her palm. No painkillers, no peroxide ... She shook her head with frustration. Lord help me. The last thing she needed was a serious infection. Come on now, her mind chided. You managed to keep Darian's and Chris's wounds clean and infection free, surely you can do the same for yourself! The bedroom door suddenly swung open, momentarily distracting her. She whipped around just in time to see Darian stride through with a platter heaping with food. Her heart leapt into her throat as he flashed her a dazzling smile. "Mornin'," he called cheerily, kicking the door closed behind him. He strode over and gently set the tray of food on the table in front of her. Then he reached out and cupped her jaw with his palm. His thumb gently traced the outline of her lips. "Did ya sleep well?" he asked. Although the question was innocent enough, Cheyenne didn't miss the underlying meaning in his silky purr. She felt warmth spread across her cheeks as the memory of their 393

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lovemaking popped in her head. With a shy smile, she nodded her head. Darian's gaze strayed to her shoulder. "That doesn't look so good." Cheyenne returned her gaze to the reflection in the mirror. "Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing when you came in." Touching the edge of her infected wound, she sighed again. "Well, let's see if I can fix this. I need some really hot water, salt, and more clean cloths." Darian looked at her blankly. "What will salt do?" Cheyenne smiled when she noticed his confused expression in the mirror. "It's a drawing agent. Hopefully, it'll pull out the infection." A momentary look of remembrance crossed Darian's features. His brows drew together in an inquisitive frown. "That day I chased ya into Goetic Forest, ya mentioned work. What did ya mean by that? What's yer work?" Cheyenne couldn't help but laugh at this turn of events. All this time, she'd felt like a newborn baby in his world, helpless and naïve. But now he was the confused one, and the revelation gave her a fleeting rush of authority. Tapping the end of her fingernail against her chin, she pondered his question. It took her a moment to think of a good example—one he'd understand. Then an obvious, albeit distasteful, comparison came to her. "Work is something you do to get paid. Some people are bosses, like Brigette. Others are their employees, like Crystal or ... Monique." Her gaze shifted to the floor when she mentioned his mistress' name. 394

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After a long pause, she cleared her throat and continued. "Some people go to college, to learn a trade or a skill. I went for nursing, to learn about medicine and healthcare." Darian looked even more confused than ever. A deep furrow formed at the bridge of his nose, and his lips became a thin line of displeasure. "I understand about the work Brigette's girls do, but what's college? An' nursin'? What exactly do you do?" Cheyenne bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling at his obvious disgust of his own ignorance. "Don't look so grim," she teased. "It's really not so difficult. Simply put, I'm trained to help people who are sick or hurt." "Like a shaman?" His face momentarily brightened with optimism. Now it was her turn to frown. "Uh ... kind of. But I can't prescribe medicine, only give what's been ordered by the doctor." Cheyenne smiled, pleased with her description. Surely she'd made it clear enough for anyone to understand, even this barbarian from planet Zandar. But as she took in the flustered expression on Darian's face, she realized her simple explanation wasn't so simple after all. She'd obviously just perplexed him even further. Darian blinked and shook his head. "I ... see. How about I go get that stuff ya want?" It was obvious he hoped to change the subject. Cheyenne pursed her mouth as a smile touched the corners of her lips. He didn't understand, but was too 395

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stubborn to admit it. "All right. Oh, and if you see Gavin, would you thank him for me?" Darian grew suspiciously quiet. Cheyenne stared at his reflection in the mirror. She noticed the pinched look on his face and the downward slant of his mouth. An irritated muscle tweaked in his jaw, and she could tell he was annoyed. Tilting her head to one side, she fixed him with a leveling glare. "I only meant for taking care of my shoulder, that's all," she jibbed, trying to hide her mirth at his apparent suspicion. Her mouth curled into an amused smile when his features turned even darker and a thunderous cloud swirled in his eyes, making them appear almost black. "Darian Andreas, are you jealous?" Although she tried to sound accusatory, she appeared thrilled instead. His lips thinned into a tighter line of irritation and his green eyes flashed with anger. "I'll ... tell 'im." His voice was strangely quiet, and she had the feeling the words were forced. Then, as though realizing he was acting silly, he smiled back, erasing all traces of his former animosity. His grin brought an immediate softening to his features. Cheyenne's insides melted into warm syrup. Her heart hammered in her chest and her blood raced though her veins. How does he do that? Darian leaned down and pecked her lips in a brief and disappointingly short kiss. Then he straightened to his full towering height, turned on his heels, and strode to the door. His hand paused on the handle as he glanced over his shoulder at her. "I still haven't decided on yer punishment," he declared. 396

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Although his tone was somber, face emotionless, Cheyenne felt a heated thrill of anticipation course through her belly. A faint, mischievous light twinkled in his eyes. There was no mistaking the devilish implication in their smoldering depths. An involuntary shudder passed through her limbs when the corner of his mouth pulled up into a devastating grin. His tongue darted out and moistened his bottom lip, as though pondering her current state of undress. And then he slipped out the door. Cheyenne stared at the empty space where he'd been with breathless excitement. She hoped they had some more time together before his brother arrived. I think I could handle another tussle this morning. As though his presence had completely monopolized her senses, and now his absence had freed them to experience other stimuli besides him, she suddenly remembered the tray of food. The smell of succulent meat and warm sweet bread drifted to her nostrils, drawing her full attention. She stared at the tray of edibles for a long moment, debating on what to eat first. Then she picked up a large purple item and inspected its strange appearance. It was shaped like a miniature pumpkin, with a scalloped-like surface and a small pucker on the top and bottom. She tested its weight in her palm. It was rather heavy, more so than she'd have thought. Lifting it to her nose, she tentatively sniffed. It smelled sweet and fruity, almost like a ripe nectarine. 397

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The skin was rough and covered with tiny bumps, but it indented slightly with the lightest pressure of her fingernail. She wondered if it was supposed to be cut open. Cheyenne searched the tray for a knife, but found none. With a carefree shrug, she lifted the strange fruit to her mouth and bit into its coarse skin. She was pleasantly surprised by the wonderful flavor that spilled onto her tongue. The flesh was succulent and sweet, more savory than anything she'd ever tasted. Cheyenne sucked the sugary juice from her lips as some ran down her chin. She wiped the renegade drops away with the back of her hand, and then attacked the delicious, pulpy mass once again. She made a mental note to ask Darian what this strange fruit was when he returned. She sampled bites of everything, and had nearly cleared half the tray before realizing she was beyond full. Cheyenne was amazed at how flavorful Zandar's foods were. Or perhaps Marge was just a really good cook. Shoving the picked over remains away, she stretched her left hand into the air and yawned with content. She caught the bed's reflection in the mirror and stared longingly at the rumpled surface. She'd love nothing more than to climb back in between the warm sheets and fall asleep. Of course, it would be much more enjoyable if Darian joined her, but she wondered how much sleep she'd get. She was just pondering all the erotic ways they could spend the next few hours when the door burst open and dashed the arousing images away. 398

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Darian barged into the room. His face was solemn and tight as he quickly deposited the items she'd asked for earlier on the table and then turned on his heels and headed back toward the door. "Hurry an' get dressed," he called back without even turning around. "Chris is here." A chill of foreboding crawled across her flesh, making her shiver with dread. She suddenly felt drained and weary. Won't he ever stop? But it was more than just his determination to win that irritated her. His insistence upon destroying her and Darian's happiness filled her with anger. Why does that man have to be so damned persistent? Cheyenne dumped the salt into the steaming tub, splashing hot water all over the table's surface. Clenching her teeth, she dipped her finger into the scalding liquid and stirred the rocky granules until they disappeared. White cloudy swirls danced across the water's surface, and the aroma of strong brine stung her nostrils. She tossed the clean cloths into the tub and pushed them to the bottom, holding them under until they were soaked. Then she plucked one dripping square out of the water and pressed it firmly against her wound. Cheyenne hissed through her teeth as the hot material touched her sensitive flesh. Stifling the cry of pain that rose in her throat, she bit her bottom lip until it throbbed like a smashed thumb. Once again, beads of sweat welled on her brow as she repeated the process over and over until all the cloths had been used and her wound was numb. Satisfied she'd done as 399

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much as she could for now, she dabbed her forehead with the edge of a towel and then stood up. Clothing was her next topic of concern. She certainly didn't want Chris to barge in and find her such as she was, practically naked. With Darian present or not, she was sure his first course would be to seek her out. She'd just found a plain yellow dress made out of a light cotton-like material when her stomach muscles clenched, doubling her over. Cheyenne sucked her breath through her teeth, wrapped her arms around her waist, and leaned over. I knew it was getting close to time. She waited until the painful cramp had subsided and then walked back to the dressing table. Although her monthly flow hadn't begun, she knew it was coming. How would she keep from having a mess all over herself? Cheyenne looked about the room. She supposed she could use some of the cloths on the dressing table, but that really wouldn't be sanitary—they were already wet and soiled. She wrinkled her nose with distaste. No, that definitely won't do. I need something ... Her irritation began to mount as she searched the dresser and didn't find anything but dust and a few dry-rotted articles of clothing. With a frustrated growl, she shoved all the drawers closed and headed for the closet. I need ... Hmm ... What could I use? She had no idea what she was looking for. What did the women of Zandar use during their periods? Coming up empty handed once again, Cheyenne finally abandoned her search. She slammed the closet doors and 400

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stomped over the bed. Then she plopped down onto the mattress in a defeated heap. Think, Cheyenne! You've got to come up with something pretty quick here. Throwing her left arm up in an admission of failure, "Oh hell, I need Marge," she exclaimed to the empty room. Feeling the beginning of another round of painful cramps, she forced herself up from the bed and headed for the door. With any luck, Marge would be nearby and she wouldn't have to search the entire cottage. The last thing she wanted was to run into Chris. Peering out into the deserted hallway, she cautiously crept from her room. Marge's room was only a few down from hers. If she could just make it without incidence ... She prayed Marge was in there.

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CHAPTER 29 After finding Marge and resolving her problem, Cheyenne snuck back to her room. She decided it would be best if she waited for Darian to come for her instead of walking through the halls alone. She had no desire to meet up with Chris or any of his warriors. As she closed the door behind her, she wondered about the stillness of the house. Darian said his brother was here, but I haven't heard any voices. She thought for sure there'd be a fight, especially since Darian had broken their agreement. Relief tentatively crept through her body, relaxing her tensed muscles and allowing a bit of comfort to smooth her frazzled nerves. Perhaps they're discussing things in a civilized manner. She tried to remain optimistic, but a sudden crash ended her wishful thinking. A loud bellow followed immediately afterward as Chris stormed through the front door. Apparently, Darian had meant his brother was on the property, but not actually there. The small indiscretion was quite clear now. "Where is she?" Chris's voice roared through the house. Within seconds, he burst into her room with Darian at his heels. "I see ya didn't think twice about givin' 'er my mother's chamber," Chris sneered, looking about the disheveled room with open disgust. 402

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"Yer mother is dead, Chris. As is our father. I dinna think it matters whose room she sleeps in," Darian replied smoothly. Chris's eyes narrowed with reproach. "I s'pose ya spent last night in here with 'er." Although his comment was directed at Darian, his condemning stare was trained on her. Cheyenne slowly stood up from her seat and faced Chris's accusation with unflinching defiance. Although she felt an unsettling twinge of fear course down her spine, making her skin break out in goose bumps, she proudly raised her chin and returned his stare with deceptive calm. After a long moment, she shrugged with indifference. "Maybe he did," she replied recklessly. Chris's eyes blazed with fury. In three long strides, he'd crossed the room to where she stood. As though longing to erase the bold defiance from her staunch gaze, his fists knotted at his sides. Cheyenne didn't flinch. She knew Darian would be on him in an instant if his brother dared hit her. Then Chris's mouth twisted into a thoughtful smirk as he took in the bruises on her face and her swollen lips. "Tell me, love, how many nights did Gavin spend in here? What about Brine? Or perhaps ya entertained 'em both together. Looks like ya've had some fun whilst Darian moped around back in Warban." Cheyenne's mouth dropped open with disbelief. Fun? He thought getting beat up, stabbed, and practically raped was fun? She wanted to snap back a witty retort of her own, but his accusation caught her off guard, leaving her reeling with shock. All she could do was stand there and sputter. 403

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Cheyenne clenched her teeth and forced herself to be calm as Chris circled her like a hungry predator. Her gaze locked with Darian's. His green eyes blazed with fury as he smoldered in angry silence, just on the verge of exploding. She wondered what bothered him more, his brother's callous insinuation, or his own insecurity at the possibility of Chris's claim. Then, as though rearing his unwarranted ideations back in order, Darian took a menacing step toward him. "That's enough," he growled in a tone laced with warning. Chris glanced sideways at Darian. The corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smirk. "Dinna tell me the thought hasn't crossed yer mind," he taunted, seemingly unwilling to back down from his brother's threat. "It's nae like ya'd know." Cheyenne stood rooted in place as Chris continued to circle, eyeing her from head to foot. He made no attempt to conceal his admiring gaze when it lingered on the slightly parted material at her bosom. His thick pink tongue suddenly darted out and traced his bottom lip, as though he were a ravenous wolf salivating over his next meal. Her hands began to shake when he slipped up behind her, bringing his body mere inches from hers. She could feel the heat emanating from his skin, burning her backside. Then his head dipped forward until his nose was close to her neck, and it took everything she had to be silent as his mouth hovered by her ear and his breath moved through her hair. He inhaled a deep breath, then straightened and moved away. Cheyenne glared at Chris, but his gaze was focused on 404

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Darian. He was obviously delighted by the murderous expression marring his brother's face. He flashed Darian a satisfied sneer. "Friend or nae, ya dinna honestly believe he'd pass up a romp as sweet as this, do ya?" Darian's reserve broke. He advanced on Chris in a blur of motion, swung his fist, and caught him on the jaw. "I said that's enough!" Chris stumbled back a few steps before regaining his balance. He raised his arm and wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth with his knuckles. Then he lifted his hand to his lips and fixed Cheyenne with a heated stare as his tongue darted out and licked the crimson smear away. Cheyenne took an unsteady step back when she saw the sparkle of determination in the depth of Chris's daunting gaze. He'll never stop. Not unless the entire planet knows I'm Darian's woman. But she wondered if even that would deter him. Before either Darian or Chris could make the next move toward a fight, Marge rushed into the room. "Ahlte! Both of ya!" She stepped in between them, preventing either one from assaulting the other. "She spent 'er nights alone! The last one as well." Marge was lying. She knew exactly where Darian had been. "Now, the purpose of bein' here was to see if she's with child. She's nae. Her flow began today." Cheyenne gasped as Marge divulged the occurrence as if it were common to discuss such. Her face flamed with 405

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embarrassment. She had the overwhelming urge to bolt from the room, but Darian blocked her escape. Unable to face their questioning eyes as both brothers suddenly stared at her for confirmation, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Oh Lord. Cheyenne groaned inwardly. She wrung her hands at her waist and wished she'd just disappear. Darian stepped toward her and gently grasped her shoulders. "Is it true?" Without meeting his stare, Cheyenne solemnly nodded her head. "I was hoping to tell you myself," she whispered. "I knew you'd be disappointed. I'm sorry." Darian placed his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. He smiled reassuringly. "I told ya, I dinna care about the prophecy. I'm nae disappointed. I was just hopin' to put an end to all of this the easy way. It's all right." Chris snorted with disgust. "How touchin'. Dinna tell me ya actually believe 'im?" Cheyenne ignored Chris's accusation. Although she knew Darian's profession of love had been honest, it wouldn't have made a difference if it hadn't been. He consumed every fiber of her being, and there was no one else she wanted, regardless of the reasoning behind it. Slipping her hand around his neck, she urged his head downward and brushed a light kiss across his lips. Then she rose up on her tiptoes and leaned close to his ear. "We'll just have to try harder," she whispered mischievously. Darian shuddered when her lips move against his lobe. His hands tightened on her waist. Cheyenne knew he wanted to kiss her more deeply, but an impatient huff reminded them 406

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they weren't alone. Reluctantly suppressing his passion, he grinned and nodded his head in agreement. Cheyenne glanced at Chris. He leaned against the dressing table with his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. His narrowed gaze was hard and steady as he watched them in silence. Then his mouth curled with disgust. "Darian might have ya disillusioned with false promises of love, but I'm nae fooled. He only wants to sire yer bairn." Cheyenne opened her mouth to argue his claim, but Darian laid a thick index finger along her lips. Then he slid his fingertip along her jaw and under her chin. Tilting her head up a little, he leaned down and brushed a light kiss against the corner of her mouth. "Dinna argue with 'im, lass," he whispered against her cheek. "Ya know it's not true." Cheyenne smiled up at him when he lifted his head. Then she glanced over at Chris once again, wishing he'd leave and let them be. But he apparently had other ideas. He distractedly stroked his jaw between this thumb and index finger. Then his eyes sparkled with delight and the corners of his mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Darian really is in love with ya." He beamed, as though he'd discovered another coveted secret to use in his arsenal against his brother. "Why, that's just ... perfect." Then he grew suspiciously quiet. His gaze lowered to the floor and his expression turned serious, as though contemplating another issue. Cheyenne couldn't help but wonder what was going through his nefarious brain. 407

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As though distrusting the sudden calm that had come over his brother, Darian reluctantly turned his attention toward him. When Chris looked up to find him watching him, he smiled. And there was nothing short of pure wickedness in his grin. "I dinna like the look in his eyes." Cheyenne glanced up at Darian's somber profile. "What is it?" Panic sharpened her voice. Darian's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "He's countin' days. Figurin' the time fer when yer body'll be ripe an' receptive." Then he stiffened as though in preparation. Cheyenne watched the silent stare down between Darian and Chris with helplessness. When she felt Darian's body go rigid, she knew a sudden sense of foreboding. The hair on her arms stood up in alarm. She glanced back at Chris, instantly taking in the strange look of pleasure curling his features into a threatening smile. He looked like the Devil himself. Oh, God. What evil is he planning now? "I s'pose we'll have our time in about ohh ... I'd say..." Chris counted on his fingers with slow and deliberate ease, prolonging her apprehension. "Twelve moons," he said suddenly, fixing her with a sinister look that chilled her to the bone. Darian took hold of Cheyenne's upper arm and pulled her beside him in a show of possession. "Fine," he snapped. "We'll have our contest on the twelfth dawn. 'Til then, Cheyenne stays with me. I can't trust yer men to keep their filthy hands off 'er." 408

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Chris threw back his head and let out a hearty peal of laughter. "An' can ya trust yers, dear brother?" He snickered with humor. Then his expression turned somber and his hilarity ceased. "Tell me, where is Brine?" "I'd imagine his remains have been scattered to the borders of Zahon Forest by now. That is, if the wild beasts of these woods would even have 'im." Gavin was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread wide, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl. Chris was clearly taken aback by Gavin's sudden appearance and startling news. His eyes grew round with disbelief and his mouth fell open. "I knew you two would have yer battle before leavin' this place, but I ne'er expected 'im to lose." His shocked gaze darted to Cheyenne, then back to Gavin. "I imagine she's to blame." He pointed a finger in her direction, but didn't wait for Gavin to concur. "No doubt the idiot took a fancy to 'er." Then he shrugged with indifference, as though it didn't matter. "Serves 'im right," he declared, apparently realizing Brine's attempted betrayal. **** Darian watched in silence as Gavin and Chris stared at each other a long while, sizing one another up for a possible dispute. He knew his best friend would gladly face his brother in combat. Gavin despised Chris nearly as much as he.

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But Chris's ability was not to be taken lightly. He was a formidable opponent, and there was no honor in his skill. No, the battle was his, and rightfully so. "If I hadn't come when I did, yer traitorous swordsman would have raped an' probably killed 'er. His debauchery was the cause of his death," Darian stated flatly, stepping between Gavin and Chris like a barrier. "How lucky fer 'er ya made it in time," Chris sneered. Then he glanced past his brother at Gavin. "I wonder how long Kira cried out fer ya." Gavin's reserve broke free. With an incensed roar, he unsheathed his sword and started toward Chris. But a firm, restraining hand on his chest halted his advance. Darian's fist knotted in the material of Gavin's shirt, holding him back when the intent to kill flared in his blue eyes. Shaking his head with forewarning, "My fight," he declared in a calm and even voice. Reluctantly, Gavin complied and re-sheathed his weapon. Darian's hand fell to his side when his friend took a step back. "Ya did yer duty to Kira. This one is mine." Gavin nodded. "Aye, m'Lord. I assume we'll be leavin' soon. Shall I prepare the harses fer travel?" Cheyenne slumped down onto the velvet stool as though suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Having forgotten her presence, all three of them now turned to look at the pale woman awkwardly perched on the stool. Darian instantly took note of her ashen color and tired eyes. "Does everything always have to be settled with swordfights and bloodshed? Hasn't enough blood been spilled 410

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already?" She looked at him through unseeing eyes. "I'd like to lay down a while before we leave, if that's all right," she stated in a small, thin voice. "Cheyenne!" Darian was instantly alarmed when she swayed. He rushed to her side, catching her just as her eyes rolled upward and she toppled over. In one quick swoop, Darian snatched her before she hit the floor. "Marge! Get me some cool water an' clean cloths!" He lifted Cheyenne up in his arms. Then he headed for the bed. "Didn't ya let the lass sleep at all, Darian?" Chris questioned, concern lacing his words. If Darian weren't already consumed with panic at Cheyenne's current state, the strange note of compassion in his brother's voice would have unnerved him. Chris had never shown concern for anyone beyond himself. He'd always claimed emotions were a sign of weakness. This was truly an unsettling turn of events. Apparently, it was also one not to be prolonged. "What's wrong with 'er anyway?" Chris demanded. His voice no longer held any hint of worry. "Is she sick?" Darian threw his brother an irritated glare. "She has a stab wound in 'er right shoulder, thanks to Brine. She's lost a lot of blood. An' I dinna imagine our bickerin' is helpin' matters none." He quickly unbuttoned Cheyenne's dress, pulled a blanket across the front of her, and then reached underneath to slide the material out of the way. Gently peeling back the blanket until only her bare shoulder was exposed, he inspected her injury. It had started to bleed again. 411

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Darian threw his hands up with despair. He was no shaman. He had no idea what to do. Turning an anguished frown to Gavin, he silently pleaded for help. Maybe she'd shown him something... "We need to put some pressure on it," Gavin declared. As though responding to his needs, Marge re-entered the room carrying a large tub of cool water and several cloths. Gavin immediately grabbed one and started folding it. Holding the prepared cloth to the bleeding wound, he nodded toward Darian, indicating for him to repeat the process with the others. Darian clumsily tucked the cloths as Gavin had done. But his lack of knowledge was apparent, and he felt like a complete idiot as he noticed how sloppy his looked, compared to the others. With an irritated huff, he tossed the crudely folded fabric to his friend. "I'm afraid I'm nae very good at this stuff," he mumbled. Marge, seemingly noticing his frustration, patted his arm. "Since neither one of ya will be much help, why dinna ya go to the kitchen an' come to some sort of agreement as to where she's to stay 'til the competition." Then she gave him a gentle push toward the door. Darian glanced at his brother. "Ya comin'?" Chris, seemingly happy to take his leave, started for the exit without question. As he crossed the threshold, Darian glanced back over his shoulder to look at Cheyenne's motionless frame. His heart squeezed with distress. I can't lose 'er, he thought fiercely, ordering the gods to intervene. And then he slipped out the door, quietly closing it 412

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behind him.

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CHAPTER 30 Cheyenne woke several hours later to find Gavin leaning over her. She offered him a weak smile that turned into a lazy yawn, which she stifled with the back of her hand. "Hi," she murmured. Gavin gave her an awkward grin in return. "I opened the window earlier. If yer cold, I can close it." As though confirming his claim, a cool breeze swept through the room and chilled her skin. Cheyenne shivered and reached for the blanket. She let out a startled yelp when she realized she was naked from the waist up. Gavin stilled her hand as it groped for the edge of the sheet. "No point in bein' modest now, I've been carin' fer yer wound fer near half a day. Ya've been asleep a long time. It's a good thin'. I had to open an' re-stitch it." He fussed with folding more clean cloths, and then proceeded to dress her shoulder. Cheyenne remained silent as Gavin worked. She knew it was difficult for him to see her this way, yet he pretended as though her half-naked torso had no effect on him. His face betrayed nothing as he concentrated on the task at hand. When his fingers accidentally brushed against the side of her breast, Gavin jerked his arm away. His jaw tensed and his eyes briefly revealed the desire hidden within their sparkling blue depths. He quickly averted his gaze from hers. "Sorry," he mumbled softly. 414

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Without looking in her direction, he grasped the blanket and slowly slid it up to cover her. "I think that's good, fer now." Although she suddenly felt warm, Cheyenne gripped the top of the bedclothes and pulled them up to her chin. She didn't know if it was the infection in her body or her profound embarrassment, but sweat beaded her brow and upper lip, and heat crawled down her limbs. A long silence settled in the room as Gavin fumbled with picking up dirty cloths and his other primitive medical equipment. His movements were stiff and mechanical, and he avoided looking in her direction as he apparently tried to focus on something besides her. "If Darian wasn't my friend..." Gavin mumbled to himself as he worked. His sarcastic snort was loud in the quiet room. "Who am I kiddin'? If Darian wouldn't skin my hide an' remove my manhood." Cheyenne suppressed a giggle, then cleared her throat. "Where is Darian?" she asked softly, interrupting his rumination. Gavin turned to her. His cheeks reddened as though suddenly realizing he'd just spoken aloud. "Uh ... he an' Chris are discussin' the terms of their challenge." Then a tentative smile touched the corner of his mouth. "I believe they're actually bein' civilized, fer once." "Do you think Chris will give up, even if ... even when Darian wins?" Cheyenne couldn't hide the concern in her voice. She feared Chris would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, 415

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even if it meant killing his own brother. The determination in his cold green eyes had left her insecure and shaken. She feared for Darian's life. **** Gavin understood her unease and shared her apprehension. There was no doubt Chris would do whatever necessary to ensure his victory. But he'd known Darian nearly his whole life, and he believed his Lord's resolve was just as fierce. He also knew there was no way Darian would allow his brother to take Cheyenne. After seeing the love so openly portrayed in his friend's eyes every time he looked at her, Gavin was certain his Lord would win, no matter what the cost. "Mark my words, Darian will be victorious," he stated with assurance. "But even so, will that be enough to make Chris stop?" Gavin thoughtfully stroked his jaw. He supposed she had a point. The only way Darian's brother would have to surrender his drive to sire the prophesied child was if the entire planet knew Cheyenne belonged to Darian. But then, Darian might be accused of hiding Cheyenne's existence, a betrayal that would bring dishonor and shame to the Andreas name, and possibly death to Darian. Treason wasn't tolerated in his world, especially when the stakes were so high.

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What would happen to Cheyenne then? Which Lord would claim rights to her? Ramekah. Aside from Darian, he's the most likely candidate. Gavin pulled a wooden chair next to the bed and slumped down onto it. He pressed his palms to his eyes as he thought long and hard for a solution. He knew what he had to do. And yet, the task seemed so unfair. Darian had been more than lenient with his past disloyalties. When he'd confessed to finding Chris and Serena together before his wedding day, Darian had forgiven him. Kissing, touching, and nearly bedding Cheyenne? Excused. Having feelings beyond general concern for the woman he loved? Tolerated. But would Darian forgive him for possibly setting him up to lose Cheyenne to one of many potential opponents? Any of which might prove to be an unbeatable adversary. All the Lords of Zandar were versed in the skills of combat. Friend or not, he imagined that ultimate betrayal would end in death. His. His brows knitted together and his lips pursed with frustration as he accepted the only viable conclusion. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of what he had to do, he fixed Cheyenne with an even stare. "There's only one way." Cheyenne stared at him in silence. Then her shoulders drooped and dismay clouded her normally shining gaze. He read understanding in her dejected stare. And even before she confirmed it, he knew she'd concluded the same answer. 417

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After all, it was quite obvious—Chris had left them no alternative. "They all have to know, don't they," she stated with conviction. He sadly nodded. "I'll take care of it." Then he stood and started toward the door. As he reached for the handle, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Just remember, Cheyenne, no matter what happens, Darian will fight fer his love fer you, nae the right to sire yer bairn." The corner of Cheyenne's mouth tweaked with a smile. "I know," she replied. A small blush worked its way up her slender throat and across her high cheeks. Her eyes took on a glazed, faraway look, and a gentle smile touched her peachy lips. Gavin wondered if she were thinking of Darian. A twinge of envy nagged his heart. Lucky bastard. Then he glanced down at the floor. He wished things weren't so complicated. Darian was a good man. And Cheyenne deserved no less. "Gavin?" Her soft sweet voice sent ripples of awareness coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes, instantly feeling guilty for harboring the lewd thoughts and brazen images racing through his mind. Then he chided himself for failing to suppress them. Whoremonger! "Aye?" His reply was a choked whisper. Gavin slowly looked up and met Cheyenne's pleading stare. Her eyes were dark and glassy with fear, like mystical 418

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clouds heavy with water before a torrential storm. Her bottom lip quivered as she seemingly struggled to keep the gates of apprehension from releasing her anxious tears. Feeling compelled to alleviate her distress, he strode back to the bed and sat down on the edge. He picked up one of her tiny hands and held it gently within his large palm. "Dinna be afraid, Cheyenne, everythin' will be all right." "But when Darian finds out—" Gavin nodded his head. "I know. But there's nae another option. It has to be done." Cheyenne looked away for a long moment. "I never thanked you for saving my life." Gavin shrugged. "Brine an' I were destined to face off sometime. My sister's death couldn't go unpunished. I'm just glad we found ya in time. Kira ne'er had a chance." "You did a good job," she appraised. "On my arm, I mean." Gavin smiled. "Always did like fixin' thin's. Course, people are a different matter." Cheyenne glanced up, returning his smile. "You'd make a good doctor in my world. You learn fast and seem to have a genuine—" A sharp rap at the door interrupted their conversation. Gavin's head snapped toward the sound. Then he quickly released her hand and jumped up from the bed. Without waiting for an invitation, Darian barged into the room. His step faltered as he took note of Gavin's sudden movement and obvious unease. His expression turned thunderous with jealousy, and he looked fit to skin him alive. 419

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But when he saw Cheyenne was awake, he seemingly forgot his misguided anger and his face lit up with delight. "Are ya feelin' better?" Cheyenne offered him an embarrassed smile and nodded her head. "A little." Gavin returned to organizing his limited supplies. When he'd exhausted all the time he could with refolding cloths and rinsing soiled linen, he picked up the basin of dirty water and headed for the door. He wasn't looking forward to his next task. **** Cheyenne watched Gavin disappear from the room with mixed feelings of relief and dread. She'd caught the suspicious look in Darian's eyes when he'd come in and seen Gavin hovering near the bed. He'd never trust them alone. She chewed on a fingernail as guilt gnawed at her insides. It was her fault there would always be discord between them. How could I have been so stupid? Once again, she regretted her reckless challenge to him in Warban. As she felt her cheeks grow warm, she averted her gaze and prayed Darian didn't mistake her unease for shame. He was quick to anger and riddled with distrust. And she'd learned all too quickly that, in this world, hot tempers weren't satisfied with a simple brawl. No, someone would end up dead. She knew Darian would be furious when he learned of Gavin's deceit. He'd accepted his brother's ridiculous bargain only to keep the other Lords from discovering her existence. 420

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Finding out it was his own friend who'd informed them would likely be more than he could handle. She was sure Gavin's deception would warrant a stiff retribution, and shoveling dung from the horse stables probably wouldn't cut it. No, Darian is at his limit for tolerance. Cheyenne shivered. There had to be another way. She couldn't let Gavin be— "I spoke with Chris," Darian declared, interrupting her thoughts. "I think we've come to a suitable arrangement." Cheyenne held her breath and waited. She didn't even try to mask the apprehension in her tight-lipped expression. What ridiculous solution has he agreed to this time? "In fourteen moons, we'll have a contest to determine who'll claim the right to take ya as wife an' sire the prophesied bairn." "I thought it was twelve—" Darian glared at her, indicating she shouldn't interrupt. Cheyenne immediately fell silent. For whatever reason, they'd made it fourteen. Okay. Fine with me. She was glad they'd added two days to her sentencing. And that's what it felt like, a hearing to determine if her crime of being the chosen one would be punished or rewarded. Perhaps they'd make it longer than that. How about twenty days? Thirty is acceptable. Never? She watched as Darian slowly walked back and forth across the small room like a panther, patiently pacing his confining quarters until he could escape and wreak havoc on 421

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all those who'd wronged him. His expression was flat and unreadable. And she had the uncanny feeling he was hiding something. **** Darian tried his best to appear as expressionless as possible, knowing Cheyenne was scrutinizing his every move. He'd read the distrust in her suspicious stare and couldn't resist the temptation to tease her. "'Til then, we shall all stay here, away from both our armsmen. Nae even Gavin is permitted to remain." Darian paused at the window and stared down at the lush meadow beside the cottage. He could feel Cheyenne's anxiousness building behind him as she waited for him to finish. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he imagined she was near the point of lunging at him with frustration. Too bad she's injured. He thoughtfully stroked his stubbled chin. He wouldn't mind a quick tussle. Not wanting to make her any more impatient lest she hurt herself, he continued. "You, Chris, Marge, an' m'self shall be the only ones to remain. Chris felt it was unlikely I'd honor my word an' stay out of yer bed 'til the championship, so 'e proposed we take turns sleepin' in here with ya. I told 'im that seemed reasonable enough to me." Cheyenne's mouth dropped open to her chin and she let out a gasp of disbelief. As though dumbfounded, she merely sat there and stared at him with her eyes bugging out of her head. Then her shock turned to outrage. 422

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"I can't believe you'd agree to such a ludicrous idea! Do you actually expect me accept it?" Her voice was shrill with anger. "You can take your gladiator bullshit and shove it where the sun doesn't shine! How dare you treat me like a ... like a..." Seemingly unable to adequately voice her fury, she resorted to grabbing a flower-filled vase from the nightstand and launching it at his head with a very unfeminine growl. Darian quickly ducked to avoid the flying pottery. It crashed against the wall behind him and exploded into several pieces, scattering water and flowers all over the floor by his feet. Unable to contain his amusement, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Although he loved the way her lips pursed with determination and her eyes blazed with flames of fury when she was angry, he didn't want her to re-injure her arm. Seeing that she was within reach of another potential weapon, he quickly crossed the room to the bed. Just as she cocked her arm back to hurtle the heavy trinket box, which had also come from the bedside table, he grabbed her wrist and halted her attack. "Calm doon before ya hurt yerself," he chided, still chuckling at her hostility. She reminded him of a captured tigress, irate and spitting with fury. Although very beautiful creatures, they were also extremely dangerous since they were known to be resourceful and vicious when they attacked. Being careful not to hurt her shoulder, Darian gently wrestled her back onto the mattress and pinned her arms 423

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down, one on either side of her head. Then he climbed onto the bed and propped himself above her. "Ya know I wouldn't agree to somethin' that ridiculous, Cheyenne. No one, an' I mean no one, is gonna touch ya the way I do. I willna allow it. Yer mine. Do ya understand? Ya belong to me. Forever." **** Although his brute possessiveness and confident claim would normally have incensed her, Cheyenne felt a pleasant shiver of excitement course through her insides. The fierce look in his green eyes told her his allegation was more than a territorial stake of his male pride. It was a passionate assertion of his heart. Her anger quickly dissipated as Darian's sultry gaze caressed her face. "So ... where are you going to sleep?" The question was a silken purr. "Ahh ... well ... I get to share a room with my dear brother. It's the only way we can each be assured the other isn't enjoyin' yer company. An' just to make sure neither one manages to sneak into yer bed, you shall be roomin' with Marge." Cheyenne rolled her eyes. Two weeks of boredom. She thought about Darian's recent proposal and her previous idea of spending their honeymoon there. The humor of their situation struck her with a sudden sense of mirth and she couldn't help but giggle. Some honeymoon. 424

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Darian crossed his arms and looked at her with suspicion. One thick brow arched and his mouth pursed in thought. "From the sparkle in yer mischievous gaze, I'm a wonderin' what secret notion has ya amused? Mayhap yer thinkin' on the more pleasant ways we could be occupyin' the next several days. Aye?" Cheyenne gave him a shy nod. "It's too bad Chris is already here," she whispered softly, staring at Darian's firm mouth and wishing it was upon hers. "Even though we spent nearly half of last night exploring and touching one another, it ... wasn't enough. I like being in your arms." Darian smiled. Then he lightly tapped his index finger on the end of her nose. "You, my dear, are an insatiable wench." Cheyenne opened her mouth to protest, but Darian quickly covered it with his own, smothering her objection with a long, passionate kiss. Apparently feeling her instantaneous surrender to his skillful rapture, he forced his tongue through her parted lips to delve deeper into the moist recesses inside. Several passion-filled moments passed before he raised his head and let out a frustrated groan. "Much as I hate it, we have to stop. I gave my word nae to touch ya 'til after the competition. My honor an' pride demand I uphold it." Reluctantly, he rolled off the bed and moved a few feet away. Cheyenne nodded her head with disappointment. She knew a man's respect was gained through honesty and integrity, especially in this world. But she didn't have to like it! She gingerly pushed herself up until she was propped on her left elbow. The blankets slipped down from under her chin 425

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to rest on the swell of her breasts. Resting her injured arm along her side, she held the bedclothes in place. "It's going to be a long two weeks." She pouted, attempting to look sultry. Darian seemingly tried not to notice. "I'm sure there'll be enough excitement around here to keep us all entertained. I imagine Chris an' I will be at each other's throat the entire time. I'm surprised we were able to talk civil an' come up with agreeable terms today. We've ne'er agreed on anythin'." Cheyenne raised her brows in mock surprise. "I'd never guess." Darian chuckled at her cynicism. "I suppose I'll have to take care of this wound myself, since Gavin will be gone. He's a fast learner. Be a good doctor on my planet." Darian's amusement quickly dissolved. An irritated muscle twitched in his jaw. As she watched his sunny smile turn into an irritated frown, Cheyenne instantly regretted mentioning Gavin's name. Serena had hurt him badly. It was true. But she was not Serena. "Darian, there is nothing between Gavin and myself. You do understand that, don't you?" She stared at him a long while, waiting for him to respond. But he merely glared back in murderous silence. Cheyenne exhaled through pursed lips. "When you were injured and bleeding to death, Gavin helped save your life. He was the only one with enough common sense to understand what I needed. I know the incident before really shook your confidence in me, but I swear to you, nothing has happened. 426

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We've been here for what ... eight days? I know you're thinking we could have ... but we didn't. I don't know what I can do to make you believe me, but I give you my word. You say that means a lot here, well it means a lot to me too." Darian quietly pondered the seriousness of her expression. After what seemed like an eternity, a tentative smile touched the corners of his mouth, the storm clouds lifted from his eyes, and he slowly nodded his head in acceptance. Then he walked back over to the bed and sat down on the edge. He looked at her a long moment, as though taking in her features for the first time. His gaze was intent and thorough. Then he leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw. "I love ya, Cheyenne. An' I believe ya. I'm sorry fer bein' such an arse." Dissatisfied with a mere peck, Cheyenne wrapped her left arm around his neck and pulled him close. Her lips sought his with desperation and her insistent tongue darted in and out of his mouth, tangling with his. When the blanket slipped down, exposing her breasts, she eagerly pressed them against him, wanting to feel the warmth of his palm. Darian kissed down her jaw and along the gentle curve of her throat. "May the gods help me, woman. Dinna ya ken what ya do to me?" With a strangled groan, he gathered her in his arms and crushed her to him. "I wish all this was over," Cheyenne declared as she fiercely hugged him in return. She clung to his throat, inhaling his male scent in soul drenching drafts until her senses were permeated with his essence. 427

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"Soon, lass. Soon," he breathed heavily in her hair. "I promise." His massive frame shuddered. "The feel of yer softness beneath me is intoxicatin'. I dinna ken how I'll keep my hands off ya fer the next fourteen moons." He kissed her once more, then reluctantly pushed her away. Cheyenne pouted with disappointment when Darian slipped from her arms. With forced cooperation, she let him go. Deep down inside, she knew he was resisting her only because he had to. If Chris knew he was in her bed— "I thought I might find ya in here." Darian had just stood up when his brother barged into the room. Chris eyed him with suspicion. "Just remember the terms of our truce." He spit out the word truce as though the very sound curdled his tongue. Cheyenne looked from one man to the other. Her brows drew together in a questioning frown. She wondered if there were some stipulations to their agreement that Darian hadn't bothered to share. Pulling the blanket more securely about her, she rolled up to sit on the side of the bed, wincing as the movement sent a sharp pain through her newly stitched shoulder. "What, exactly, are the terms of your agreement?" she asked, directing her question at Chris but focusing her glare on Darian. Chris snorted and crossed his arms over his chest with an aggravating air of pleasure. When his scarred cheek pulled up into a beaming smile, she wondered what kind of sick idea he entertained in his wicked brain. She waited patiently for him 428

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to enlighten and no doubt shock her with his additional information. "Ya didn't tell 'er that part, did ya, bro." Then he laughed, seemingly pleased at being the one to break the sure to be unpleasant news. "It's like this, love, if Darian shares yer bed, then so do I." Cheyenne nearly choked on her own revulsion. So, Darian had been telling the truth after all. Only he'd tried to play it off as a joke. There was only one thing she had to ask herself—Is he crazy! "Get out, both of you! I don't want to see either one of you until after this ridiculous competition!" Cheyenne knew her request was unreasonable—they'd all be seeing a whole lot of each other for the next several days. But she didn't care. She was so mad she couldn't see straight. Darian opened his mouth to protest, but then obviously decided against it. With a defeated nod, he followed his brother out of the room. **** Chris casually strode down the hall next to Darian, whistling an upbeat tune and walking with a content saunter. He knew his brother had just tasted Cheyenne's sweet lips, he could still see the faint swelling around her mouth. But it mattered not. He wanted Darian to break their agreement, because he fully intended to collect on his end of the bargain when he did.

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CHAPTER 31 Gavin packed the saddlebags on his mare with as much dried meat and bread as he could. He knew he had a long journey ahead of him, and it wouldn't be an easy one. His heart lay heavy in his chest as he thought about all the stops he'd make along the way, each one digging his dagger of deception into his friend a little deeper. His horse shifted anxiously as she picked up on Gavin's dour mood. She neighed with understanding and nudged his arm, as if to say, "I still love ya." Gavin smiled and pet her affectionately on the nose. Then he moved up to scratch between the massive animal's erect ears. "I know, Andi. Yer the only lass in my life." Andi pawed the ground with sudden irritation. Her ears flattened back on her head and she let out a sharp whiney of warning. Without even turning around, Gavin knew someone was standing behind him. "I thought ya'd be in here," Darian stated flatly. "I was just gettin' ready to leave," Gavin mumbled, glancing back at Darian, but avoiding eye contact with him. "Ya stoppin' at Brigette's along the way?" Gavin's body stiffened. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as tension crawled down his spine. A gamut of emotions impaled him, nearly felling him to his knees. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't betray Darian any further.

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With a dejected sigh, he turned to face his friend. "Darian, I..." There was an almost desperate note of pleading in his tone. Although Darian's expression was emotionless, Gavin didn't miss the lethal glare in his friend's green eyes. At that moment, he knew Darian was close to killing him. It was only the complexity of their situation that stilled his Lord's hand. Darian looked down at the hay-covered floor under his feet as though pondering his words carefully before speaking. "It has to be done," was all he said. Then he turned on his heels and strode from the barn. Gavin stared at the empty space in the doorway. Part of him wanted to jump on Andi's back and take off like a hound out of Hades, but the other part wanted to go to his friend. He knew there'd be no more clemency in Darian's judgment once his mission was completed. With a frustrated huff, Gavin yanked the last strap on Andi's saddle until it was tight, and then swung himself onto her back. There was nothing he could say to make things right between Darian and himself. He'd have to wait until his deed was done, and then hope his friend didn't skin him alive when he returned to Andreas Castle. Head held low, Gavin took hold of Andi's reins and led her out the barn door. Fighting the urge to break her into a full gallop, he coaxed her into a steady trot and headed for the road toward Havenwort. It was going to be a lonely ride. Word traveled fast in Zandar. It wouldn't take long for his news to be spread. He imagined the boundaries of Andreas Castle would be saturated with eager competitors and hopeful 431

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suitors by the time Darian and Chris arrived for the competition. Even in light of his depressing situation, Gavin couldn't help but chuckle. Chris would be furious when he saw all the others. Darian is only one of many he'll have to contend with if 'e wants Cheyenne. The idea was reassuring. He wondered if Chris would even bother once he saw all the Lords and High Ranking Officials eagerly lapping at the Andreas doorstep. But he knew Chris's desire burrowed much deeper than merely siring the prophesied bairn. His driving force came from trying to take something from Darian, once again. "Cheyenne deserves much better," Gavin mumbled to Andi, who merely whinnied in response. "Better than me, that's fer sure. Better than Chris or Lord Ramekah or anyone on this worthless planet!" Nay, she deserves a mon who'll love 'er. "She deserves Darian, that's what she deserves," he stated with conviction. Andi's mane suddenly bristled. Gavin felt his mare's muscles stiffen with alarm. The sound of pounding hooves approaching from behind instantly caught his attention. He'd just turned to see who it was when he felt a blow from the side. He let out a surprised yelp as he felt himself fall from the saddle. Fearing for his life, Gavin rolled out from under his attacker and reached for his knife. He'd yanked it free and was about the jump to his feet when he saw Darian standing above him. His face was a dark silhouette, unreadable in the 432

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dim moonlight. And his stance was wide, as though prepared to fight. For a long while, they both stared at each other in silence, pondering, calculating. Gavin wasn't sure if Darian had changed his mind and wanted to take out his vengeance now, or if he was only bluffing, like he'd done many times when they were young lads. He wondered if Darian even knew himself. Then Darian held out his hand, offering to help him up. Gavin re-sheathed his knife at his waist and clasped his friend's hand, letting him help him to his feet. Once off the ground, he went to pull his palm free and step back, but Darian held him fast, preventing him from moving. Gavin instantly took note of the stony set of Darian's shadowed face, his clamped mouth, and fixed eyes. A muscle quivered in Darian's jaw. He was either boiling with anger, or struggling with mirth. Sweat beaded Gavin's brow as he nervously waited for his Lord's next move. Then Darian's expression suddenly broke into a warm grin and he let out a hearty laugh. "Did I have ya worried?" he asked, punching Gavin on the shoulder. Gavin let out a relieved breath and wiped the moisture from his forehead with the back of his free hand. "Ya had me goin' fer a minute." Darian still held his palm. Then Darian's expression became somber. His brow creased with worry and he stared at Gavin a long moment before speaking. "I worry about yer safety, my friend. This is a dangerous journey on which ya embark." 433

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Gavin nodded in agreement. He knew the perils all to well. It was very likely he'd get his throat cut by someone attempting to keep him from spreading the word of Cheyenne's existence too far. By limiting the competitors, any Lord stood a better chance of winning the upcoming challenge. "Go to Warban first. Ya mustn't ride alone. Take some of the others with ya. I plan on arrivin' at Andreas Castle a few days prior to the fight. I want to get Cheyenne there an' settled before too many others come. She'll be terrified once she sees how serious this is." "Aye, m'Lord." Once again, Gavin started to pull away from Darian. And once again, his friend held him fast. He raised an inquiring brow. Darian clasped him firmly on the forearm with his other hand. "Dinna fear my wrath, my friend. This was inevitable. It must be done." Gavin nodded again, relieved to know he hadn't disappointed his Lord and destroyed their friendship. He just hoped he survived this task so they could ride together across the plains of Zandar once again. And who knew, maybe the prophecy was correct and their world would become a much more peaceful place. Darian reluctantly released Gavin's arm. His expression turned grim. "Ya mustn't go to Ramekah. 'Tis sure to brin' certain death. Our families have been at war fer hundreds of passes. He would love nothin' more than to get at me through—" 434

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"But the law states all territories must be notified of the chosen one's existence. Darian, I have to—" "Nay! I'll nae jeopardize yer safety. Ya go to Warban first, then on to Brigette's. Havenwort is central. If ya tell enough men, the word will spread." "What about Grisham?" Gavin asked, suddenly realizing how ill prepared he'd been when he'd set out on this venture. Darian paused. His thick brows drew together as he stroked his chin in thought. Then he smiled, seemingly pleased with himself. "When ya get to Warban, send Thor on to Grisham. Have 'im take some men an' stop at all the smaller holds surroundin' the borders." Darian paced a few steps away, obviously pondering the viability of his plan before continuing. "Tell Thor to inform Lord Grisham that all the holds of Northeastern Zandar need word, includin' the treacherous Ramekahn Territories. Let Grisham deal with Lord Maximus Ramekah." "Aye, m'Lord." Gavin placed his foot in the stirrup and swung up onto Andi's back. "I willna fail ya." Darian's jaw clenched with concern. "By the time ya get to Havenwort, Thor should reach Grisham, an' our duty will be done. Instruct the men to return directly to Andreas Castle. There's to be no dawdlin' at Havenwort. Once the word is spread, there'll likely be chaos. I'll need ya back at the castle, my friend." Gavin nodded his head. Chaos was probably an understatement. He prayed the focus remained on Cheyenne's existence and not Darian's treachery. 435

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"No matter what happens, Darian, I'll maintain yer innocence," Gavin declared. The loyalty in his tone was almost fierce. Darian chuckled. "Ya mean my ignorance?" Gavin smiled in return. His Lord was cunning. "Aye, ignorance." Then he shrugged with indifference. "I didn't know she was from Earth. I mean, who'd have guessed?" Darian laughed. "Let's nae go overboard. The less said the better." "Do ya think Chris will tell?" Gavin couldn't help the concern in his voice. Chris was devious. He'd be willing to do just about anything to best his brother. Darian shook his head. "Nay, he'd be implicated just the same. After all, he was the one who kidnapped 'er to begin with. He'd probably be more to blame than me. I was merely tryin' to rescue 'er." "Uh huh." Gavin eyed his friend with feigned suspicion. "Fer whose cause?" Darian's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, mine of course." Gavin groaned in response. "Yer right, the less said the better. Ya might as well hang yerself." Darian nodded in agreement as he stepped back from Gavin's horse. "Aye, ya may be right, my friend. Ya may be right." Gavin took hold of Andi's reins and slapped them gently against her neck. As she started forward, he looked back at Darian. "See ya in a few days," he called. 436

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Darian raised a hand in farewell. "God's speed, my friend, I'll be waitin' an' prayin' fer yer safe return." Gavin clucked his tongue and gently nudged Andi's ribs with the heels of his boots. He'd be praying for his safe return too, his as well as the rest of Darian's men. "Oh, an' Gavin," Darian called, just a Gavin and Andi were almost out of hearing range. "Say hello to Monique fer me. Give 'er my regards." Gavin laughed and shook his head. "I'm sure she'll greet me with daggers," he yelled back. "She was pretty hot when we left." **** Darian smiled. Monique and he had shared some pretty exciting evenings, but there was only one woman for him now. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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CHAPTER 32 Cheyenne draped herself across the large armchair in the sitting room and stared out the window at the sparkling lake. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she watched the same family of swans she'd seen nearly two weeks ago waddling toward the crystal water. Only this time, she found no pleasure in their playful frolicking as the mother swan once again struggled to keep her rebellious babes—now slightly larger and more defiant—in control. Her chest was heavy with the suffocating feeling of impending doom. In just a few days, Darian, his brother, and who knew how many others would battle for the right to sire her child. The thought was unnerving. The last several days had been nothing short of exhausting. She'd been on pins and needles every moment of every day, trying to avoid any behavior that might spark a fight between Darian and Chris. Although she'd been able to spend a few stolen moments with Darian, they'd limited their touching in fear of being caught. Cheyenne had found it nearly unbearable to be so close to him, and yet so far away. She'd watched his every movement with parched thirst, drinking in each sensual motion of his mouth as he spoke. She longed for those skillful lips to press against hers and taste her with the seductive mastery she knew they were capable of. It all seemed so unfair. She'd finally found the man she wanted, and circumstances beyond their control were keeping 438

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them apart. A small shudder passed through her insides and a choked sob escaped her lips as she wondered if their separation might be forever. Her thoughts drifted to Gavin. She wondered if he'd already spread the word about her existence. Would there be a mob of eager competitors anxiously waiting for them when they reached Darian's castle? Uncertainties plagued her mind. Perhaps their decision had been hasty. Did we make a mistake? She dared not let the idea that someone besides Darian might win the challenge and claim their right to father her unborn child enter her thoughts. The possibility was too much to bear. He had to win. He just had to. A soft knock interrupted her melancholic mood. Darian was propped against the doorway, his large form casually leaning against the frame with composed ease. His lips curled into a devastating grin and his dark brows arched with inquisition. "I can see by the sour look on yer face that yer thinkin' on unpleasant thin's. Am I correct?" His tone was light and teasing. Cheyenne cracked a weak smile, hoping to mask the tremors of fear coursing through her veins. The attempt was futile. She knew she only managed to make her apprehension more evident as large tears suddenly filled her wavering gaze. Unable to look upon his handsome face any longer lest she burst into uncontrollable wails, she quickly turned away. Apparently sensing her distress, Darian quickly crossed the room. He kneeled down on the floor before her and gently 439

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took her trembling hands in his. "Please dinna cry, Cheyenne. Everythin' will be okay. I promise." She turned tear-filled eyes toward him, knowing her fear and distress were as clear as the blue skies outside the parlor's windows. Her bottom lip quivered and she felt a surge of anguish overtake her as panic rioted through her insides. She began to shake as fearful images of what might come forced their way to the front of her mind. "I'm so afraid," she squeaked, her voice cracking with emotion as renegade tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving wet tracks in their wake. Darian gathered her into his arms as he would a small child. He gently lifted her from the chair and then sat down himself, cradling her in his lap. Affectionately stroking her head, he whispered calming words of encouragement. "It'll be okay. I promise you. Have I broken a promise yet?" Taking her face in his hands, he forced her to look at him. Cheyenne bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "But—" "No buts. I willna let anyone take ya from me. An' when this is over, we dinna even have to have any babies, if ya dinna want. Although, I think that might be difficult to prevent." He mischievously ground his lap against her bottom. Cheyenne inhaled sharply, feeling his hardened shaft rub against her rump. She couldn't help but giggle at his provocative suggestion. Playfully slapping his chest, "Darian Andreas, is that all you think about?" she scolded, trying to sound abhorred by his brazenness. 440

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"Hmmm.... "He pulled her face down to his to steal a quick kiss. His touch was like a whisper. Although his kiss was brief, the caress of his lips on hers set her aflame while shivers of desire raced through her insides. She moaned softly as suppressed yearning quickly sprang to life, sending the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. If only they had a little more time before his brother discovered their secret meeting and ruined it with his annoying presence. **** Despite the waves of apprehension that tormented his own thoughts, Darian wanted to comfort and reassure Cheyenne. As he tasted her sweet lips, he felt the passion rising within her, strong and fiery like the early morning sun. But he knew their time was brief. "As much as I'd love to hold an' kiss ya all day—" "I know," Cheyenne interrupted, reluctantly climbing off his lap. Her gaze fell to his restrained erection, which was painfully pressing against the lacings of his leather pants. She quickly glanced back over her shoulder at the doorway, as though to assure herself of their privacy. Then, with a wicked smile, she ran her hand along his inner thigh. When she curled her palm around his hardened form, Darian groaned and closed his eyes. "Cheyenne..." His soft whisper was tight and heavy with need. The thought of her warm mouth surrounding him nearly made him explode. "Yer drivin' me barmy, do ya ken?" he 441

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accused, opening his eyes and fixing her with a passionblurred stare. Cheyenne giggled and removed her hand. "No more than you do me, m'Lord." Shaking his head to clear his brash thoughts, Darian jumped up from the chair. "Auck! I almost forgot why I came in here. Ya need to get packed. We're leavin'." One of Cheyenne's dark brows rose in feigned question. "We are?" Darian stepped away from her and strode to the window overlooking the lake. He suddenly felt the full weight of his thirty-two passes like a heavy cloak upon his shoulders. "I want to get back to Andreas Castle before..." Realizing he was about to say something he shouldn't, he stopped. Cheyenne stepped up beside him, her gaze trained on his face. He wordlessly stared back at her a long while, trying to decide what should be divulged and what should be left unspoken. But before he could come up with an acceptable excuse, she broke the thick silence between them. "Before the others arrive," she stated flatly. Darian's bottom jaw nearly dropped to his chest. Once again, he was struck by this woman's deep intelligence and perceptive intuition. She never ceased to amaze him. Not realizing he'd been holding his breath, Darian exhaled in one long, relieved sigh. Finally finding his voice, "Ya knew?" he asked in a nervous rush. ****

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Cheyenne looked down at the floor and chewed the inside of her cheek. She suddenly felt guilty for having conspired with Gavin to spread the news. But it wasn't like she wanted to. There simply wasn't any other alternative. She wondered if Gavin had broken down and confessed, or if Darian had figured it out for himself. "I think we all did, from the very beginning," she declared softly. Darian's palm gently cupped her chin and coaxed her gaze to his. "Much as I dinna want to admit it, I believe yer right. There is naught I can do to change the laws." "Laws?" A tiny bell of alarm clamored through her head. Darian solemnly nodded. "The law states all holds must be informed of yer existence. It should have been done right after yer arrival. But I guess I can claim ignorance. 'Twas nae 'til at Brigette's ... An' then Chris..." With an exasperated huff, Darian ran a shaky hand through his thick hair. "I dinna ken what I'll tell 'em. I ne'er gave much merit to the old prophecy. It hasn't even been spoken of in many passes. An' then here ya come." With a sad shake of his head, "I could be tried fer sedition, fer keepin' ya a secret," he finally confessed. Cheyenne felt the color drain from her face. Sheer black fright swept through her insides. Panic, stark and vivid, made her instantly nauseous. "What?" she stammered, as though she hadn't quite heard him. "What?" she repeated again, feeling as though her lower limbs had gone numb. All this time, her concern had been about Chris. She'd never even considered anything like this. 443

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Darian rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, seemingly trying to erase some of the weariness that had suddenly crept into his somber stare. "I need to get back to the castle an' consult the seer. He'll know what the prophecy states, an' how badly I've broken the law. My ... our fate rests solely in him." Cheyenne was furious. "Why'd you wait until now?" she demanded. "Why didn't we go back sooner? We only have a few days before the competition." She couldn't believe he hadn't told her this before. How dare he make her fall in love with him, give her false hope that he'd win the challenge, and make her believe their destiny was to be joined, just to tell her now none of it mattered because he might be taken away from her anyway? She lunged at him and pummeled his chest in outrage. "How could you do this to me?" she wailed, hitting him repeatedly until her strength gave out and she resolved into sobs of anguish. "Why does this have to be so unfair?" Burying her face in the rough fabric of his shirt, she inhaled deeply, drinking in the comforting aroma of his natural male scent. "I'm sorry. Thin's just got out of hand. I can't blame it on anyone but m'self. I know the law. I probably knew what ya were the moment I laid eyes on ya. You were so bonnie standin' up on that hilltop, yer hair softly billowin' around yer face, yer gown gently blowin' around yer legs. My first thought was surely ya must be a goddess." "Is there any hope? Any ... possible way out of this?" Cheyenne asked with a choked sob. 444

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Darian gently coaxed her chin up with a nudge of his finger. Then he smiled reassuringly. "As long as I love you an' you love me, there's always hope." Cheyenne drew in a shaky breath. "How many do you think will come?" Darian's cheeks filled with air. Then he blew it all out through pursed lips. "I dinna ken." "There can only be one representative from each hold. If memory serves me right, that makes about fifteen, includin' Chris an' m'self." Cheyenne nearly choked on her shock. "Fifteen?" she croaked, feeling the delicate walls of confidence she'd just started to erect suddenly come crashing down around her ears. "More will probably show up, but only one from—" Cheyenne nodded her head impatiently. "Only one from each hold. Yes, I heard you the first time. That just seems like so many." Something bothered her though, he said one representative. Did that mean the hold's Lord would come, or could it be someone he chose? As though Darian read her thoughts, "Anyone he sends can compete in his stead," he confirmed. Cheyenne's brows furrowed with objection. "That doesn't seem quite right," she protested. "If he's not strong enough to win the championship, why should he get the honor of fathering my baby?"

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Realizing how conceited that sounded, she hurriedly tried to explain her point. "I didn't mean it would necessarily be an honor, what I meant—" Darian chuckled. "I know what ya meant. But yer right, it'll be an honor. However, I've no intention of affordin' that privilege to anyone but m'self." He leaned forward and captured her lips in a passionate kiss that left her senses reeling. His touch was by no means gentle or soft. His mouth was demanding, purposely sending her the message she belonged to him and no one was going to change that. Giving herself freely to his urgent claim, she parted her lips and raised herself up to meet him. As though they'd forgotten his brother's barbaric deal, they lingered precariously, their lips touching, teasing, and savoring every moment until they would at last have to part. Lost in their own dreamy world, it was an all-too-familiar voice that brought their utopian harmony careening to a halt. "I figured I'd catch you two sooner or later," Chris sneered, leaning casually against the doorframe as though he'd been there a while. Cheyenne instantly jumped back from Darian, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. A small cry of alarm escaped her throat. She wordlessly stared across at him, her heart pounding through her teeth. Seemingly satisfied he had their full attention, Chris walked toward them with a deliberately casual stride. Stopping a few feet before Darian, he leaned toward him, his eyes cold. "I wasn't playin' when we made our deal." His 446

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voice was sharp and ruthless, like the icy steel of daggers edge. "I intend on enjoyin' every delicacy you do." With a smirk of satisfaction, Chris straightened to his full height, grabbed Cheyenne by the upper arms, and roughly crushed her against him. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of her sleeves as his mouth swooped down to cover hers with merciless hunger. Wasting no time with intimacy, he quickly forced her lips apart with his bold tongue. There was no tenderness or affection in his touch. His mouth was savage, and Cheyenne's first instinct was to fight against him. She pressed his chest with her hands, trying to push him away. But he held her still with biting fingers that bruised her skin. Even though his ravishment was brutal, his contact fierce, a deal was a deal and she was forced to endure his punishing kiss. Reluctantly, she succumbed to the callous domination of his mouth, praying it would be over soon. Her only sense of security came in the knowledge that Darian was there and wouldn't let Chris harm her any further. When he was satisfied he'd caused her enough humiliation and proved his point, Chris thrust her away like he would a sullied bar whore. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as though the taste of her disgusted him. His nostrils flared as he turned up his nose, and the corners of his lips pulled downward while he regarded her with open denigration. Cheyenne was enraged by his contempt. Her fists knotted into balls at her sides. "If I repulse you so much, then why do 447

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you insist on having this ridiculous competition?" Her body vibrated with barely controlled fury. "Yer soiled goods, naught more. My concern is sirin' the bairn. Beyond that, you'll be no use to me," Chris sneered with a glare full of scorn and a voice laced with ridicule. Cheyenne could do little more than stand there, wordlessly sputtering with anger. Of all the nerve! In a gesture of defense, she folded her arms tightly across her chest. Her eyes narrowed sharply and she gave him the best I hate you look she could muster. After a long few moments of an unwavering stare-down between Chris and herself, Cheyenne finally glanced over at Darian. He seemed on the verge of exploding as well. His brows were deeply furrowed, eyes smoldered with dangerous black clouds, lips were pursed and taut, and an all-toofamiliar tic worked across his jaw as the muscles beneath clenched in anger. With a firm grasp, he yanked her out of his brother's reach. Then held her next to him in a show of possession and challenge. Cheyenne yelped with protest as his fingers gripped the already bruised flesh of her upper arm. But Darian seemed not to notice her cry of pain as he continued to glare at Chris. "Ya willna be sirin' 'er bairn," he declared boldly, his face etched with an unspoken threat. One of Chris's brows arched with amusement. He crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed back on his heels in a stance of unconcerned ease. "We shall see," he replied, his tone stanch with confidence. 448

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A long silence followed as Darian and Chris measured each other, both assured of their victory in a battle that hadn't even been waged. Although she kept her features deceptively composed, Cheyenne glanced from one man to the other, her apprehension growing with each passing moment. The air around her seemed charged with the electricity of arrogant male pride and stubborn ego. Unable to withstand the tension any longer, Cheyenne opened her mouth to speak. She wanted to tell Chris that he'd have a whole lot more than his brother to contend with once they got to the castle, but her moment of haughty triumph was instantly cut short by a stern glance from Darian. A cloud of warning settled on his features and the look in his eyes was enough to chill her to the bone. She immediately clamped her lips shut and dropped her gaze to the floor. Even though she was well aware of Chris's scrutiny, Cheyenne dared not return his questioning stare for fear of revealing anything to his keen perception. She wondered why Darian didn't want his brother to know about the other suitors, but she quietly obeyed his wishes and kept her mouth shut. Whatever the reason, she had no choice but to trust he knew best. **** Distrusting Cheyenne's sudden complacent demeanor, Chris eyed her with a critical squint. He saw the harsh frown from his brother that had instantly silenced her. And he had 449

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the uncanny feeling she was about to relay something Darian didn't want him to know. Unease crept down Chris's spine, making him bristle with suspicion. Cheyenne may have shrouded their secret, but he'd seen the momentary look of victory that had crossed her features. He knew his brother could be just a ruthless as he. It was obvious neither one intended to reveal their little secret. But it mattered not. In just a few days, he'd beat his brother and claim his right to take Cheyenne. Darian and she might think they had the upper hand, but what they failed to realize was he intended to win, one way or another. With a shrug of indifference, Chris abruptly turned on his heels and started for the door. Nae much longer, love. Soon, he'd get the satisfaction of taking something from his brother, once again. And he'd finally get the chance to break Cheyenne's defiant spirit. Chris licked his bottom lip as an image of her naked body, perfectly shaped and tanned to a golden hue, flashed through his mind. What a sweet victory it'll be. He wondered what Serena would think when she found out Cheyenne was taking her place. And he couldn't help but smile sadistically when another possibility entered his devious mind. Mayhap I'll keep 'em both. Beddin' 'em together might be fun. But he knew Serena would never agree to that. She was too possessive. He could scarcely bed any of the servants without her finding out and throwing a tantrum. I'll simply have 'er sent away. 450

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He'd grown rather tired of her anyhow. It was time for a change. Maybe he'd send her to Lord Grisham as a gift—he'd always been fond of Serena. In truth, the man could scarcely keep his eyes off her every time he visited. Chris smiled to himself. It was a perfect solution. He was almost to the door when another idea stayed his step. The thought was so preposterous that he faltered. Surely Darian wouldn't... Had his brother outsmarted him? Nay, 'e wouldn't risk losin' Cheyenne to Ramekah. Would 'e? Chris paused at the threshold and looked back at Cheyenne and his brother. His eyes locked with Darian's and they silently exchanged vows to best the other in their upcoming tourney. He thought he saw the flicker of deceit in his brother's unwavering gaze, and a voice of warning sounded in his head. Maybe it was his own suspicious unease. Feeling his buoyancy falter, he turned his attention to Cheyenne. His gaze lingered on the slightly parted material of her bodice, and he felt suppressed desire spring to life within his groin as he remembered the feel of her mouth beneath his. He was nearly mad with wanting her, but kept his cravings tightly bridled. If he were to have any hopes of winning, he'd have to catch Darian by surprise. Snorting as though disgusted, Chris turned up his nose and headed out the door, leaving Darian and Cheyenne staring after him. Cheyenne would be his. He'd see to it, one way or another. **** 451

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Cheyenne caught his glimpse of longing as Chris looked her over from head to foot. His eager gaze dropped from her eyes to her heaving breasts and lingered there, openly ogling the tanned mounds that bulged above her bodice. Something intense flared through his entrancement before he successfully shrouded his obvious desire. His attention was disturbing to her in every way, and she found herself fighting the urge to flee the room and escape his rapturous stare. Contrary to what he professed, his attraction was apparent, and she was by no means blind to his not-so-subtle signals. She was also aware that his affections were bound to be nothing short of perilous. Fear crept through her veins as Chris's gaze raked across her exposed flesh. The memory of his touch plagued her thoughts, making her shudder with panic. Trying to throttle the dizzying currents racing through her insides, she squared her shoulders and returned his stare. Cheyenne almost exhaled with relief when he finally strode from the room. Feeling her confidence give way, she collapsed against Darian. And she surely would have hit the floor if he hadn't been there to catch her. "It'll be okay, I promise," Darian whispered lightly against her ear. Cheyenne tingled as his lips brushed her lobe. She wished they could just run away and leave this whole mess behind. But she knew, sooner or later, Chris would find them. No, this had to be ended, once and for all. And she'd have to live with the outcome, no matter how unpleasant it might be. 452

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Darian playfully swatted her on the behind. "Come on, love," he coaxed, mocking his brother's voice. "Ya better get to packin'. We'll be leavin' soon. Cheyenne groaned in defiance. She certainly didn't relish the feat before her. With a sigh of acquiescence, she trudged toward the doorway. After a few steps, she realized Darian was still standing in the same spot. Cheyenne glanced back at him. His expression quickly turned flat and emotionless, but not before she caught a glimpse of the concern he harbored beneath the apathetic exterior. "Aren't you coming?" she asked, trying to pretend she didn't see right through his nonchalant facade. Darian stared at her for a long moment, his gaze carefully taking in every inch, seemingly memorizing each curve as though it might be the last time he saw her. The fear he apparently struggled to keep suppressed in the deep recesses of his heart squeezed through his stony barriers, becoming blatantly exposed in his lingering stare. In three long strides, he'd crossed the room and gathered her in his arms. He held her tightly, crushing her to his chest with desperation and clinging to her frame as one would a life preserver in a torrential storm. Cheyenne could sense the barely controlled anguish wracking Darian's insides. She felt the tremors of fear course along his massive frame like a squalling breeze across the open sea. Realizing the depth of his love, her own heart swelled in response. She hugged him fiercely in return, praying this would be only one of many moments spent within the comforting circle of his arms. 453

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"Hey!" she protested. "I thought I was the one who's supposed to be afraid here. After all, I've got God only knows how many barbaric men vying for the opportunity to share my bed." Despite the tremulous quivering of her nerves, her tone was light and teasing. Gently coaxing his gaze to hers, she caressed his stubbled cheeks with her palms. On a more serious note, "I only want you. I know you can make it so," she said softly. Darian smiled at her, a warm, buttery smile that melted her insides. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he teasingly tugged it downward until she was forced to turn her mouth up to his. His lips came down firmly, almost brutally over hers as though staking claim to her once and for all. He kissed her long and hard, until they both gasped for breath and lingered on the verge of losing control. **** The horrible realization that he might lose her washed over Darian like a tidal wave, leaving him drenched with worry and shaken to the core. This woman from planet Earth had become the very air he breathed and the thought of living without her was more than he could bear. Despite their misunderstandings, despite her fears, she had faith in him. And that was all the driving power he needed. "It will be so," he declared.

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CHAPTER 33 Cheyenne scarcely noticed the beautiful landscape as the carriage bumped and jerked its way along the path toward Andreas Castle and her questionable fate. Marge quietly sat on the velvet-covered seat beside her. Every once in a while, she'd pat her hand with encouragement. But even the old woman's persistent support couldn't break through Cheyenne's dour mood. They'd been traveling nearly two days now, and would reach their destination in less than a few of hours. A couple of hours ... it seemed like such a short time before she'd be faced with the reality of her situation. The thought was like the cresting of doom upon the peaks of her soul. There'd been several instances along the way when she'd fought back the urge to leap from the moving coach and run into the neighboring forest like a wild-animal attempting to flee its capturers. But what use would it have been? Either Darian or Chris would have caught her eventually. And she'd have ended up right back where she was now. She sighed, eliciting another comforting squeeze from the elderly fingers grasping her hand. Cheyenne ignored Marge's attempt at reassurance. When it came down to it, her fate, and her fate alone is what rested on the chopping block, no one else's. Then a startling thought struck her. That wasn't quite true. All of Zandar was in the same noose as she, perhaps in a 455

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roundabout way, but still, every person on this barbaric planet was hanging in the gallows of uncertainty. While she considered their prophecy to be nothing more than a pain in her soon to be royal ass, these people had been waiting for a savior for hundreds of years. She was like a goddess to them. And their future rested solely on the character of her unborn child. Her love for Darian and his for her had nothing to do with the true meaning of this prophecy. No, positive emotions were considered a bonus in this scheme. All that really mattered was the destiny of this planet, and its people. She alone held the key to that fate. She was the key. Cheyenne slumped back against her seat and exhaled like a deflating balloon. All this time, she'd been concerned with her feelings for Darian. But she'd failed to see the true meaning of her purpose. Of course, it would be wonderful if Darian emerged the victor and earned the right to father her baby, but that wasn't what really mattered here. Her baby had to be strong, intelligent, merciful, and it would be her duty to see to it, regardless of the sire. With that thought in mind, Cheyenne realized she had to know more about the prophecy. What exactly were she and her baby meant to do? With a new spark of purpose lifting her spirits, she turned to Marge. "Tell me about the prophecy. I need to know what my baby means to you and the people of this world," she demanded gently. "I have to know." Marge's eyes lit up with delight as she stared back at her. "You see," she exclaimed excitedly. "'Tis why yer the one. 456

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Ya've realized the importance of the prophecy, of yer obligation. It's nae fer yer fate, or Darian's fate, or even mine. But it's the fate of Zandar's children, an' those to come, that yer duty entails." Marge took a deep breath as though trying to figure out exactly where to begin. She wrung her scrawny hands together with indecisiveness. "There's so many passes of history, so much death, so much hate, so much vengeance. How can I possibly condense it?" "Just start at the beginning," Cheyenne suggested. "We've got plenty of time." Marge smiled in return. "Aye, that we do." She settled herself back against the seat before starting. "Many passes ago, there were two main territories on Zandar, each headed by a descendant of the rulin' clan. Andreas an' Grisham were the two. Smaller holds surrounded both of 'em an' maintained loyalty to the clan's Lord, as they do today. Although each hold in turn has its own High Rankin' Official, they still retain allegiance to their larger clan. I guess there's about twelve or so holds remainin'." Her head bobbled on her shoulders as she tried to add them up. "So many have been destroyed. It's hard to keep count." Throwing her weathered hands up with frustration, "It's somethin' like that," she finally exclaimed. "Let me see if I got this straight," Cheyenne cut in. "There are territories, clans, and holds?" She was confused. Obviously Darian ruled the Andreas Territory, but was he in a clan or a hold? 457

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Marge nodded in agreement. "Aye, the clan an' its holds are within their specified territory. The clan Lord is the central ruler. The holds are beneath 'im." "Oh, I see. So basically, the territory is the land owned by the clan Lord, and the holds are just smaller groups within the territory that ultimately answer to him, even though they have their own ruler." Cheyenne's head swam with the enormity of their hierarchy. It was kind of like cities, states, and countries. Only this world was divided into three countries, and one man ruled each. Sounded like a lot of responsibility to her. "That's right," Marge praised. "Darian rules all of the Andreas Territory. He's the clan Lord, but 'e also has High Rankin' Officials beneath 'im to watch over the individual holds." "So how would one address a High Ranking Official? The HRO?" Cheyenne giggled, trying to bring some humor into her grim situation. "He's a Lord," Marge replied with a frown. Cheyenne's mirth instantly died. "Oh. I guess that makes sense." Seems to me, this whole place is overrun with Lords! After a long pause, Cheyenne cleared her throat. "Darian said he expected around fifteen or so contenders. Shouldn't the clan Lords be the only ones to compete?" "With somethin' this important, there'd be mutiny if the High Rankin' Officials were excluded. I dinna quite understand it m'self." Marge shrugged. 458

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"Gavin told me Chris killed the High Ranking Official of Warban and took his throne. What stops any man from doing the same to Darian?" "Only an Andreas can claim the clan Lordship. An' 'e has to be in the proper birth order. But any mon of noble blood can take over a hold." Cheyenne's eyes grew round with horror. Didn't these people see how barbaric their culture was? Their development was dreadfully comparable to the 1400's on Earth, and the sinking realization that she was now a part of it as well made her shiver. No wonder women were held in such low regard here. If she were someone other than the chosen one, just some helpless soul who was the unfortunate victim of an interplanetary transport phenomenon, would Darian treat her differently? Would he have ravished her at Brigette's then left her there to find her own way in this crazy mixed up world? Cheyenne mentally shook herself. What did it matter? Circumstances were as they were. She was the chosen one. So why waste time on what-ifs? Besides, she needed to get back on topic. The prophecy claimed she'd end the warring between the Ramekah and Andreas Territories. And right now, she wasn't sure how it all fit in. Who was Ramekah? "I can't imagine any man wanting to govern a hold," Cheyenne exclaimed, feeling another shudder wrack her insides. "Not if he faces the prospect of assassination." She wondered how many High Ranking Officials had lost their lives to zealous successors. 459

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"Ne'er underestimate the determination of a mon who wants somethin'," Marge advised. Then her voice dropped to a mere whisper. "Or of one who wishes to keep it." Cheyenne's stomach clenched with distress. Is she referring to Chris and Darian? Marge waved her hand before her with an air of dismissal. "The hold numbers are nae important. What is important, are the three clans." "Three?" Cheyenne squeaked, feeling as though she were suddenly drowning in an ocean of male domination and impending oppression. "But I thought you said two?" "There were two," Marge corrected. "Now there are three. Dinna get impatient," she scolded, shaking a scrawny finger at Cheyenne's nose. "I dinna want to get ahead in my story. You'll understand where the third came from soon enough. Ya must comprehend the true nature, the vengeance, the anger, an' the hatred behind the makin' of the last. Fer it's the basis fer the prophecy." Cheyenne nodded, then dutifully clamped her lips tight and waited for Marge to continue. "The Andreas Territory was always bigger, more powerful than Grisham, yet they remained civil in their dealin's. There was yer occasional war here an' there, but nothin' like the raids an' cruelty plaguin' Zandar now. Our world weeps with the blood of 'er people an' cries fer a savior. An' here ya are." She lovingly squeezed Cheyenne's hand. "Here ya are." Cheyenne patiently waited for Marge to continue. But she felt her tolerance grow thin as the old woman merely continued to stare at her with eyes filled with exultant joy. 460

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"What happened to change the peace?" she finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity. "Ramekah..." Marge whispered, as if she expected the mere utterance of the name to bring death and destruction reining down upon their heads. Cheyenne instantly noticed the fear that transformed Marge's features. Icy dread twisted around her heart, a chill raced down her spine as she repeated the name to herself. Although Chris certainly held some challenge for Darian, instinct told her Lord Ramekah would be his biggest threat. Maybe he won't even come. Maybe he doesn't want to end the fighting. Then another possibility dawned, and it was the most disturbing of all. Or maybe he'll have me assassinated once he learns of my existence. She felt panic bubbling up through her belly like a rising volcano on the verge of eruption. Glancing out the window, she pondered the possibility of escape once again. If I could just make it to the trees— "When his first wife died in childbirth," Marge began, interrupting Cheyenne's rioting thoughts. "Darian's three times past grandfather, Lord Gregor Andreas, chose a young lass from the Grisham Clan, Whisper—so named fer 'er quiet an' agreeable demeanor—fer his second wife. She was in fact, Lord Harigard Grisham's own daughter. Thin's had recently been awry between the two territories, an' it was hoped this marriage would renew the peace." Marge took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She suddenly looked very tired. 461

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Several moments passed in silence, and Cheyenne began to wonder if maybe Marge had fallen asleep. She felt guilty. All this turmoil over the last few weeks had taken its toll on everyone. This elderly woman was certainly no exception. "I'm nae asleep, lass," Marge said suddenly, as though reading Cheyenne's thoughts. "Just takin' a small rest. I know I'm nae meant fer this world much longer. Nearly seventyfive passes have come since I first opened my eyes to the beautiful light of Zandar. My time is near through." Then she opened her eyes and smiled. Reaching out a shaking hand, she cupped Cheyenne's jaw and gently lifted her chin. "Youth is a faded memory to me now. But my life has been fulfillin', an' I have little complaint about leavin'." Marge sighed and dropped her hand back onto her lap. "My only regret is failin' to rear Chris an' persuade 'im into good. Maybe I could renew m'self with the gods by preparin' ya fer yer upcomin' task. Fer Zandar's sake, I'm gonna try." Cheyenne smiled in return. "I couldn't ask for a better teacher." A slight hint of pink tinted Marge's wrinkled cheeks. Obviously embarrassed by the praise, she swished her hand in the air as though humbly brushing aside the compliment. Then she fixed Cheyenne with a steady gaze. "Yer a smart lass. Yer wit will get ya through what's to come. But let's get back to the story." Cheyenne nodded agreement. She was eager to know more about the mysterious Ramekah.

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Marge opened her mouth to speak. Then her brow furrowed and she let out a small cackle. "I'm afraid I've forgotten where we was." Cheyenne giggled. "Gregor has just wed Lord Grisham's daughter, Lady Whisper." "Aye, Gregor an' his new wife. Now, Whisper soon gave birth to Gregor's second son, Harigard Ramekah Andreas—so named to honor his grandfather, Lord Grisham. Lord an' Lady Andreas couldn't have been happier. But much like Darian an' Chris, Gregor's first son Aaran an' younger son Harigard were enemies from the start. Peace in the Andreas Territory became a rare occurrence as the two lads grew an' their hatred an' jealousy of one another did as well." Marge sadly shook her head. "Ain't it strange how history repeats itself?" Cheyenne silently nodded in agreement. She almost felt as if she knew what happened next. Only Harigard obviously had much more perseverance and determination than Darian's brother. He would set up a whole new territory, a whole new clan. And that's when the bloodshed would begin. "When Lord Gregor passed away, the two sons began a bloody fight fer the clan Lordship. It seems the Andreas Clan was divided. Half wanted Harigard to rule, since his mother was still very much alive an' servin' as Lady Andreas. An' the other half wanted Aaran, since 'e was the first son born to Gregor an' the rightful heir." Marge shrugged. "Accordin' to law, the first-born—if he's of right mind, strength, an' will to do so—is the due successor. But Harigard refused to bend an' accept defeat. He argued an' 463

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pleaded with his mother to name 'im as the new Lord of Andreas Territory. But she delayed, hopin' the two could work out their differences. She knew her true son wouldn't make a good ruler. Yet, she didn't have the heart to deny 'im. So in response, she did nothin'. Soon, there was much bloodshed between the divided clan. An' the people cried out to 'er to end the feudin' between 'er sons." Cheyenne felt moisture sting her lids. She could only imagine the dilemma Lady Andreas must have had. According to law, her stepson was the rightful heir, and probably the better choice. But how could you refuse your flesh and blood? Your own child? "Lady Andreas finally did the only thin' she could, she publicly addressed the people an' named Aaran as the lawful new Lord, denouncin' 'er own son in the process. Harigard was furious. He gathered his followers an' attacked Andreas Castle, determined to claim the Lordship anyway. But Aaran was clever. He anticipated Harigard's deceit an' had his own army ready. He managed to beat his brother back an' maintain control of the castle. Then 'e ordered Harigard an' all of his remainin' followers banished from Andreas Territory. 'Twas the only way to end the fightin' once an' fer all. Or so 'e thought." "Just like Darian and Chris," Cheyenne whispered. "Aye," Marge concurred. "But the fightin' didn't end. It only got worse. Harigard swore revenge. But with his number of followers dwindlin', 'e had no choice but to leave. He took what was left of his people an' moved to the other side of the settled lands of Zandar. He began his own clan—" 464

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"Then there were three," Cheyenne interrupted. "Andreas, Grisham, and Ramekah." She shuddered when she mentioned the last name. Marge nodded in confirmation. "He rejected the Andreas name, droppin' it from his own title. An' 'e was so angry with his mother—fer what 'e claimed as sidin' with the enemy—he arranged fer 'er death. Whilst she slept, she was assassinated in 'er own bed by Harigard's henchmen. Aaran was infuriated by his brother's treachery, but it was too late, Lady Whisper Andreas was dead, an' the remainin' people of the Andreas Clan were lookin' to 'im fer protection from Harigard's vengeance." Cheyenne's mouth dropped open with shock. She couldn't believe Harigard had been so malicious. His mother had only done her duty. Her eyes strayed to the two men riding on horseback outside the carriage window. They were both very solemn and quiet. Their strained peace was evident. Could Chris be that malevolent? Would he kill his own brother if need be? Could Darian? As if she read Cheyenne's thoughts, "Ne'er doubt it," Marge said softly. Although her voice was quiet, there was a certain conviction in the old woman's tone that shook Cheyenne to the core. She slowly returned her gaze to Marge's gentle face. "I don't want to be the cause of..." Her voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Marge hugged Cheyenne to her breast. "Shh ... dinna cry, lass. That's nae yer concern. Men will be men. As women, we 465

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have no choice but to pray to the gods to keep 'em safe. It's one of our unfortunate burdens. But dinna fret about Chris now. It's Lord Maximus Aurelius Ramekah who should hold yer fear. Fer he'll be nothin' short of a brutal opponent." Cheyenne straightened herself upright, trying to regain control of her sudden despair. "Okay," she whispered, sniffing noisily and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Marge grunted in disapproval and shoved a flowerembroidered handkerchief in her direction. "I can see we need to work on yer manners," she stated, a frown pulling at the corners of her thin mouth. Cheyenne giggled. "Sorry, guess that wasn't too lady-like, was it?" Marge rolled her eyes. "May the gods help me," she declared, raising her hands in a mock plea. "Aaran?" Cheyenne reminded, as she blew her nose. "Auck! I completely forgot. Aye, let's get back to that. Now Aaran was, as I said before, a very smart mon. But his army was also weakened by his brother's attack. An' 'e knew Harigard would return once 'e was well rested an' could gather more followers. Although his brother was a cruel mon, wreakin' havoc in every hold 'e went through, 'e was also a very convincin' leader. An' he'd collected quite a large followin' all across Zandar. Aaran had only one option—'e had to make a plea to Lord Grisham." Cheyenne's eyes widened with shock. "But Harigard was Lord Grisham's real grandson, not Aaran."

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Marge nodded in agreement. "Aye, 'tis true. But it was well known Harigard had arranged fer his mother's death. An' she was Lord Grisham's daughter." Cheyenne's mouth formed into a comprehending O, and she nodded with understanding. "I can see where that makes a difference." She found the thought strangely satisfying. After what he'd done, Harigard deserved his grandfather's wrath. "Lord Grisham was furious with his grandson. I believe if 'e hadn't been his own flesh an' blood, he'd have killed 'im 'imself. Certainly Zandar would have fared better if 'e had. In exchange, 'e sided with Aaran an' lent 'im the aid of his army with the agreement Harigard would be spared." "So basically, all Harigard got was a slap on the wrist. But he was allowed to build his own territory and grow in strength and now his clan is as powerful as Darian's." Cheyenne's voice was heavy with sarcasm. She was thoroughly disgusted with the now deceased Lord Grisham. He could have helped Aaran stop Harigard. "Nae as powerful as Darian," Marge corrected. "But the Ramekah Clan has ever since been a thorn to the Andreas name. The blood runnin' through Maximus is just as cruel an' malicious as that which ran through Harigard. Nae much has changed through the passes. The people of the Ramekah Clan hate those of the Andreas, an' vice-versa. The only thin' keepin' some semblance of peace is that Grisham Territory separates the two. Otherwise, I fear there'd be only one remainin' clan." "Grisham," Cheyenne deduced. 467

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Marge nodded. "Be that as it may, it's the holds surroundin' the Grisham an' Andreas Territories who've suffered. Even the ones within Ramekah's own territory haven't been exempt from brutal raids an' unrelentin' attacks by their clan Lord." "They attack their own people?" Cheyenne couldn't believe the vulgar nature of these men. That didn't make any sense! She collapsed back against her seat as she experienced a gamut of perplexing emotions. What type of people were these Ramekahns? And how could she possibly remedy hundreds of years of anger? "Harigard instilled rule by fear into his lineage. I guess 'e felt his people would be more loyal if they were terrified of 'im," Marge replied. "We've ... had some rulers like that in my world," Cheyenne choked out. "Fortunately though, they didn't last very long. Why don't the Grisham and Andreas Clans team up and get rid of the Ramekahns?" "They've tried. But it's always ended in mass slaughter of the innocent. Brutality only begets more brutality. There has to be another way. Yer that way." "But what can I do?" Cheyenne cried, feeling overwhelmed. "I'm only one person. How can I make three clans stop fighting?" Marge smiled reassuringly. "I dinna ken fer sure. But the prophecy says ya will. So I believe—" "What's there to believe?" Cheyenne demanded. "How do you know this prophecy is true? Who wrote it? Who prophesied it?" 468

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She knew she sounded irate, but she couldn't help it. Why was Marge so sure she could do anything? What if Maximus won the competition and simply killed her? Ending the possibility of Zandar ever having peace. "I can't do this, Marge! I'm..." Cheyenne instantly stopped her outburst. What happened to the levelheaded young woman of yesterday? What happened to her home, her job, her cat? How had she ended up here, a major figure in some hairbrained scheme to save the world? Only, it wasn't even her world! It was some uncharted mundane planet that wasn't even supposed to exist! "I'm ... afraid," she said softly. Marge patted her hand. "Of course ya are, lass. Ya've been given a big task. But you'll do what ya must. An' I'll help ya." Cheyenne sadly shook her head. "But how can you be so sure?" she insisted. "Because," Marge replied, an air of assurance touching her distinguished face. "I prayed fer the gods to send ya, an' here ya are." Cheyenne exhaled with exasperation. "Oh, Marge. I wish I shared your confidence. But I'm skeptical. I don't want to disappoint anyone." She glanced out the window at Darian. "Especially him." Marge chuckled. "Darian loves ya more than the very air 'e breathes. If yer nae the chosen one, I believe he'll be a might relieved, 'cause he's terrified of losin' ya." As if he felt her eyes upon him, Darian turned to look back at her. He smiled, a warm, welcoming smile that made 469

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Cheyenne's insides flutter with excitement. A vaguely sensuous light passed between them and she suddenly felt comforted. Somehow, it would all turn out right. It just had to. Cheyenne smiled back at Darian and then returned her attention to Marge. "Okay then, tell me about this prophecy, and how can we make it work to our advantage?" "That's my lass." Marge beamed with approval. "Now, as far as I remember, the prophecy specifically states the chosen woman has the right to pick 'er suitor. If this is true, then..." For the next two hours, Marge filled Cheyenne's ears with as many details about the prophecy as she could remember. By the time they reached Andreas Castle, they had devised a plan and Cheyenne felt, for the first time, in some sort of control of her destiny. If Marge was correct—and she prayed she was—then she did have some say in who fathered her child. They were just discussing the varying ways to eliminate some of the other suitors when Cheyenne caught site of Darian's home. Her eyes bulged from their sockets as she leaned out the window and looked upon the breathtaking beauty of Andreas Castle, the impressive number of dwellings around it, and the expanse of stockade protecting it. The stony walls seemed to stretch for at least a mile on either side of the massive drawbridge barricading the entrance. The summer cottage now seemed no bigger than a child's playhouse. And even Chris's impressive fortress, with its never-ending labyrinth of halls and tunnels, dwarfed in comparison. She continued to stare, gaping in wide-eyed 470

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wonderment, as they closed the distance between them and the looming structure. "Wow! Its so ... so—" "Big?" Marge asked with a smile. "Yeah!" Cheyenne replied in an exasperated rush. "The homes surrounding the castle?" "Andreas Clan. They live within the safety of the castle walls." Marge gave her a crooked grin, seemingly amused by her childlike glee. "So the holds are within Andreas Territory, but outside the castle walls?" "Aye," Marge replied. "I'm nae sure how many, probably three or four. They too are protected by the Andreas army, but have their own castle, their own warriors, their own ruler." "The High Ranking Official." It was starting to make sense now, this strange world and its method of rule. She thought about the tale of Robin Hood. In exchange for protection, the smaller holds probably paid taxes or tithes to the clan. It was typical government—you can't get something for nothing. With a shrug of indifference, she continued her assessment of the castle. She'd never seen any structure so formidable with its seemingly impassible stony hedge, and yet so inviting with its whitewashed granite walls and royal blue banners flapping gracefully from every tower peak. Even the award winning pictures in National Geographic, which depict some of the most beautiful citadels all over the world, failed to compare to 471

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the splendid architecture of Darian's palace. It was breathtaking. Finally reaching the borders of their destination, the carriage stopped a few feet short of the wide moat nestling the wall. Darian reined his horse in next to the coach and plucked a long curled horn off the side of his saddle. It reminded Cheyenne of an antler, perhaps from a steer or a ram, only it was much larger. She watched as he placed the pointed tip of the horn to his mouth and blew. Suddenly, a low-pitched bellow filled the air around them. Cheyenne felt a strange sense of pride at the deep sound. She eyed the moat blocking their way with apprehension. She didn't even want to guess what might be swimming in it. She was sure this world had its own version of alligators and crocodiles. Returning her attention to the imposing wall, she craned her neck to see the peak of the soaring turret before her. A lofty bell tower with a sharp point reached toward the sky as if grasping for the heavens. Within its belly hung an enormous brass bell. Cheyenne marveled at its size. It was so big, it seemed as if the weight of it should overwhelm its stony housing and bring it crashing down into the moat below. Or even worse, upon them. "Whoa..." she whispered with awe. Tall narrow windows punctured the steeple's walls, affording light to whosoever might be unfortunate enough to have the responsibility of ringing the bell. She imagined this 472

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was necessary to forewarn the clan's inhabitants of an approaching intruder, alert them to the arrival of guests, or perhaps inform them of the return of their beloved Lord. Being the logical woman she was, Cheyenne wondered if one might need an oxygen tank to ascend such height. As if her thoughts had elicited a necessary response, the enormous bell began to move. Slowly at first, its yawning clang began like a distant toll deep within the tower walls. And then faster, as its huge rim swung out over top of them like an oversized umbrella and its massive bellow enveloped them with a deafening boom. If the people inside were unaware of their approach, they certainly knew they were coming now. Suddenly, the huge wooden drawbridge began to lower. Cheyenne felt her insides quiver with nervous anticipation. Soon, they'd be entering the sanctuary of the mighty Andreas Clan. The urge to flee crept up on her like a thief in the night, stealing into her soul with the insensitive doctrine of a street bandit. But she fought it back, willing herself to remain strong. Her duty called. She wouldn't let the people of Zandar down. It wasn't until they reached the castle courtyard inside and she saw the numerous suitors decorating the square like lounging iguana that she felt her confidence begin to falter. Darian said fifteen. This looked more like four hundred! Big difference here, Darian! But before she could question him about the discrepancy, Chris bellowed his objection. 473

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"What the Hades is goin' on, Darian! What are they doin' here?" He furiously pointed to the crowd of men before them. Darian responded with a sarcastic chuckle. "Calm doon, Chris. Ya know the law, as do I. Most of 'em will have to go. Only Lords an' High Rankin' Officials are allowed to compete." "To Hades with the law!" Chris snapped. "This was between you an' me!" "The law states all Lords have to be notified of the chosen one's arrival. We were both treadin' on treason, punishable by death fer the significance of the circumstances." Chris bridled in silence. He knew Darian was right. Then he scowled at Cheyenne a long moment before verbally attacking his brother from another angle. "I already know she's soiled goods," he sneered. "So it willna come as a surprise on our weddin' night. Ya do know the bairn must be born into proper nobility, nay?" Annoyance prickled Cheyenne's skin. She gripped the edge of the carriage window and glared back at Chris. She was just about to tell him she had no intention of marrying him or any of those other optimistic fools loafing ahead when Darian cut into her escalating fury with an adequately witty retort. "Without question. Lucky I'm nae already married. S'pose I should thank you fer that." Then Darian gave him a smug smile. Chris's eyes narrowed with anger as he apparently realized the error of his past discretion. His jaw clenched with fury and his hand instinctively reached for his sword. "But ya can bet there willna be any surprises on the night of our marriage," Darian continued. "I already have every 474

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inch of 'er memorized. From the feel of 'er silken tresses, to the taste of 'er—" "Enough!" Chris barked. "We shall see who prevails as the victor. But you should know, I've every intention of winnin' this game, one way or another. I dinna care how many players there are." Darian thoughtfully stroked his chin and nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough. An' you should know as well, I've no intention of losin'." With that, he spurred on his horse and trotted ahead, leaving Chris to fume behind him. Cheyenne collapsed back against the carriage seat. She felt her previous confidence begin to falter. Marriage? I have to marry the winner as well? Of course, that only made sense. She vaguely remembered Darian saying something about the winner claiming her as wife and fathering her baby. She supposed she was so engrossed in the fathering of her baby part that she completely disregarded the marrying one. This ... this was a whole new quandary in itself. I can't marry one of them! I love Darian. Then another problem popped in her head. What if the winner already had a wife? Darian said most of those guys would have to go. Only Lords and High Ranking Officials could compete. But surely they weren't all bachelors. She looked at Marge. "What if the man who wins is—" "Lords may have more than one wife. Although it's an old practice, one which has fortunately lessened over the last hundred passes or so, it's still acceptable." 475

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Cheyenne shook her head with disgust. Yet, she could understand why the women of this world had allowed it. After all, what were their alternatives? Places like Brigette's.

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CHAPTER 34 Cheyenne paced the small waiting room like a caged animal while Marge and a young handmaiden quietly watched her tantrum. They'd been waiting in there for what seemed like hours, and she was wearing a hole in the posh carpet. If Darian didn't come back soon, she'd be down to the wood! "What's taking the seer so long?" she snapped. "Surely to God there can't be that much to study about the prophecy!" "There's no point in gettin' upset," Marge declared. "Ya might as well sit doon, have a bite to eat, an' just wait." Cheyenne huffed in annoyance. "I can't, Marge. Don't you see? They're probably in there deciding my fate, and I'll have no say in it." She pointed to the closed door barricading her from the meeting in the other room. "Trust me, lass. When the seer calls ya in, demand to see the prophecy fer yerself. He'll probably balk, but if I'm right about yer choice in thin's, he'll comply, 'cause 'e has to. These thin's take time. Just be—" "Time?" Cheyenne screeched impatiently. "And if you're wrong?" "Then yer fate is left to Darian's cunnin'," Marge replied calmly. "Cunning?" Cheyenne asked in the same shrill voice. "There are four-hundred suitors out there, each wanting to sire my child. I can't rely on cunning! I've got to have—" "Nay, m'Lady," the young handmaiden soothed. "Most are gone. Lord Andreas ran 'em off whilst ya were bathin' an' 477

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gettin' ready fer the presentation. There's but twelve or so left. Only the high Lords." Cheyenne eyed the girl like a vulture ready to pounce on a timid mouse. Just a dozen or so? Sure, that doesn't seem so bad. Not to someone who isn't facing the prospect of being auctioned off like a market cow! As though sensing Cheyenne's rising temper, the girl dropped her gaze to the floor and folded her small hands in her lap. Her curly blonde hair slipped down around her face, hiding her delicate features. And her narrow shoulders began to tremble. Suddenly realizing how ridiculous she was acting, Cheyenne forced herself to calm down. Throttling her handmaiden certainly wasn't going to improve her circumstances. Right now, she needed all the friends she could get. "Look," she began, softening her voice to an even tone. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm just scared of what's going to happen to me. In my world, most women control their own destiny. Here, it's like I have no say in my fate. I'm not used to this, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit." The girl smiled up at Cheyenne. It was a warm smile that reminded her of sunshine on a bright, springy day. With her flawless skin, soft blue eyes, and innocent features, she couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old. "Yer world sounds nice," the girl replied. Cheyenne returned her smile. "I miss it." Then she sat down beside her. "But you know what I miss most?" The handmaiden shook her head. 478

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"I miss my cat, Milo." Cheyenne sighed. "I sure hope Aimee feeds her." "My name is Sari," the girl offered. "What's a cat? Cheyenne rubbed her brow between her thumb and index finger and chuckled. It seemed as though nothing was going to be easy here. Just wait until I explain cars and airplanes! She looked at Sari and smiled, forcing herself to concentrate on something other than the twelve or so men on the other side of the door. Perhaps talking about her home might relax her frazzled nerves. "A cat is an animal with claws, sharp teeth, soft fur, small pointed ears, a long tail, and thin whiskers coming out of its lips and brow." Cheyenne demonstrated a tail and whiskers as best as she could. "It's also very loveable and purrs when it's happy." Sari looked horrified. "Ya keep those as pets?" she asked incredulously. "We have cats, but they're very dangerous." Her voice dropped to a hushed tone. "Tigres," she whispered with awe. Tigres? Cheyenne mentally moved the letters around, discovering an interesting comparison to her own world's creature. Tigers, she deduced. It wasn't the first remarkable likeness. It seemed as though these two planets had quite a few similarities. "You must mean big cats," Cheyenne construed. "We have big cats, too. We call them tigers. But like your tigres, they're dangerous. Our pet cats are smaller and domesticated." She was rewarded with a confused frown from Sari. 479

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Cheyenne was just getting ready to explain what domesticated meant when the door to the adjoining room opened and Gavin peeked his head through. "They're ready," he said gruffly. Without a backward glance to Marge or Sari, Cheyenne jumped up and rushed toward him. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. Finally, a chance to get in her two cents. Shoulders squared, head held high, Cheyenne whisked past Gavin and into the large room. She was all set to begin demanding her rights, but her confidence vanished almost instantly when she found herself the center of attention of fifteen pairs of eyes. Her knees nearly gave out and it took all the courage she could muster to stand, unflinching, as each man within the room carefully scrutinized her from head to foot. Fifteen. Her breath caught in her throat. There were fifteen suitors in all, including Darian and Chris. Although it was better than the previous four hundred, it was still more than she wanted to contend with. With fragile poise, Cheyenne calmly met the assessing stare of each of her spectators in turn. She quickly sized up the men before her, mentally taking notes about each one's appearance and demeanor. Even without proper introductions, she had no difficulty picking out which man would offer Darian the biggest challenge—Lord Maximus Aurelius Ramekah. He was a mountain of a man with broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and thick corded thighs. He sat as if he were 480

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completely at ease amongst his enemies, arms folded neatly across his chest, legs stretched out before him, and feet casually crossed at the ankles. His honey-golden eyes studied her intently, unblinking, like a cunning predator carefully assessing its prey. Sparks of interest glittered briefly in his hard stare before he shrouded them with a frosty gaze that reached all the way to the depths of her soul. Cheyenne felt an arctic chill creep down her spine, caressing her with icy fingers and freezing her to the bone. She kept her face as composed as possible while she coolly assessed him in return. From his thick and wavy bronzed mane to his large dust-covered boots, she could find no flaws in this colossal giant. It appeared as though Andreas blood did indeed flow within his veins for he was, with the exception of Darian, the most tantalizing and terrifying man she'd ever laid eyes on. Even Chris no longer seemed as daunting next to this enormous man. Feeling her composure beginning to crumble, Cheyenne quickly moved her attention to the next Lord in the line up. He was significantly older than the others. His once ravenblack hair was flecked with hoary slivers and sported thick gray streaks at the temples. A clean-cut, salt and pepper goatee—which he stroked with one long slim finger— surrounded his smooth thin lips. His eyes, although heavily lined with age at the outer corners, were crystal blue and showed no signs of weakness or fatigue. His frame was significantly smaller than Lord Ramekah's, which dwarfed him in comparison. But there was something 481

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about the steadiness of his gaze that leant Cheyenne to believe he was a more capable opponent than he seemed. He certainly afforded watching. With his hawk-like nose and flawless ivory skin, one could almost consider him handsome. She made a mental note to ask Darian about him later, and then moved on to her next target. After a brief but thorough examination of each man, Cheyenne turned her gaze to Darian, who didn't appear happy at all. His mouth was dipped at the corners in a frown of displeasure and his brows were deeply creased. He obviously didn't like her being the center of attention, especially to a group of barbarians who each wanted to claim her for himself. Don't worry, big fella. Neither do I. Cheyenne nervously wrung her hands at her waist. She was beginning to feel self-conscious as each man continued to examine her. Not even the men at the bars back home made her feel this insecure. Moooo ... she thought with a strange twist of humor, comparing herself once again to a market animal. It was obvious they would continue to gape at her in either dumbfounded silence or shocked disappointment—she really wasn't sure what was going through all those thick skulls—as long as she'd let them, so it was time to move things along. Feeling as though she'd just been inspected, dissected, and thoroughly analyzed, she quickly searched for a graceful means out of the spotlight. Seeing a vacant chair next to Gavin, she hurried over and seated herself. 482

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She felt all eyes including Darian's watch her as she moved across the floor, following her every step. But she didn't dare look back. Finally reaching her destination without mishap, Cheyenne sank back into the comforting support of the cushioned armchair, wishing the seat would just open up and swallow her whole. Her insides were quivering like gelatin and she had the overwhelming urge to expel her last meal. "May the gods help me!" she squeaked under her breath. Gavin chuckled beside her, obviously hearing her tiny useless plea. I'm glad he finds all this so amusing. How would he like being the amoeba under a microscope? Or better yet, the main course for this salivating pack of wolves? Cheyenne was on the verge of scolding him for his untimely bout of mirth when an elderly man carrying what appeared to be a very old and dusty tome hobbled out from behind a collection of book-laden shelves. He limped across the floor, dodging outstretched limbs and struggling to lug his heavy burden to a handsomely carved desk at the other side of the room. Fearing he might not make it to his destination, Cheyenne jumped to her feet and hurried over to help him. Casting a backward scowl to her worthless group of onlookers, she reached for the book. "Here, let me help you." After removing it from his scrawny fingers, she carried it to the desk. Then she pulled the chair out and waited for him to be seated. Ignoring the cynical snickers emerging from her amused spectators, Cheyenne slid a seat up to the desk and settled herself where she could see. She cast Darian an irritated glare and then pretended to ignore him when he raised questioning brows. 483

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He could have at least helped the old guy out. What's wrong with him anyway? Lord, this man must be a hundred years old! Surely one of these men had more respect for their elderly than that. But then she thought of the way she'd been treated since she'd gotten there. The men of Zandar obviously had no regard for anything beyond their own needs. Well, she certainly had a bone to pick with Darian whenever she got the next chance. As though suddenly feeling the weight of her reality, her irritation vanished. She only hoped she got that chance. "I believe I've found an accurate dictation of the prophecy," the old man said. His voice was thin and scratchy, like nails on a chalkboard. But his vocabulary was well versed. He was clearly an intelligent man, despite his frail exterior. The old man carefully opened the book to the desired page. Then his head nodded forward as though reading. A long few minutes slipped by and Cheyenne couldn't help but wonder if he'd fallen asleep. The silence became unbearable. "Yes?" His head suddenly snapped up. "Patience, woman!" Another round of sardonic chuckles erupted about the room. Startled by the harsh reprimand, Cheyenne jerked back into her chair. What an ungrateful old— "What does it say, Marion?" Darian demanded, cutting into her shock. "We all grow weary of yer games, ol' mon. Ya've no cause to snap at the lass. She's just as anxious as the rest of us, an' with understandably more reason to be. Ya've kept 484

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us waitin' far longer than necessary with yer pittle-pattlin' around." "Auria, auria." The old man waved a feeble hand in the air as though shooing away Darian's displeasure. "I s'pose there's just cause fer eagerness," he crooned. Cheyenne folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. Eagerness wasn't exactly the word she was thinking of. Perhaps anxiety was a better term. Either way, she was ready to get this over with. The sooner she got out of that room, the better. Every time she chanced to look up from the desk, she was met by a group of unwavering stares, and she was starting to feel like a sideshow exhibit. Some of their expressions were still troubled, as if they really weren't too sure of what to make of her or whether or not they found her acceptable. The others were a bit more unnerving—desire and lust were blatantly obvious as they openly ogled her from head to foot, mentally undressing her with their brazen stares and concocting God only knew what kind of sick scenarios in their warped little minds. Although each of them made her uneasy, there was one who set her nerves on edge. Lord Ramekah's face was the epitome of an impassive statue. No confusion, no disappointment, no desire, just the calculating gaze of a dangerous man. His eyes were steady, his mouth taut, and his frame a stony effigy. Behind his cold stare lay the devious psyche of a cunning predator. And he watched her with a silent avowal of assured determination. 485

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Darian, on the other hand, seemed ready to come undone at the seams. He glowered at the others with a fixed scowl, sending out a not-so-subtle message of warning to each of them. She imagined it was only sheer willpower keeping him from tossing all of these men out on their ears. Cheyenne knew he didn't like the way they were staring at her, and Maximus's scheming gaze wasn't helping matters. "According to the prophecy, the lass will come from Earth, bearin' the ancient symbol." With shaking hands, Marion held up the book so the others could see the marking. Cheyenne's heart dropped down to rest somewhere between her kneecaps and heels. It was the same as her tattoo. It's true then. There was no denying it. She had to be this chosen woman. What other explanation was there? "But it's just a tattoo," she mumbled weakly, feeling her last thread of hope fading away into oblivion. Marion gave her a stern glare for interrupting, but said nothing. Ignoring her timorous plea, he continued on. "She'll come in a flash of..." Cheyenne barely heard his words as he droned on. Her tear-filled eyes met with Darian's and she felt the last bit of confidence drain from her body. "I love you," she mouthed silently. Hoping he understood. Darian subtly nodded his head. He did, all too well. But their love wasn't enough. The prophecy was beyond their control. All they could do was try to conform the law to their desires. And she knew that was something he intended to do, or at the very least die trying. 486

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"...a sire of 'er choosin'." Marion's declaration cut into her thoughts. "What?" Cheyenne demanded, her brain snapping back to attention. "What did you say?" Marion looked at her blankly. "W ... which part?" "Just now! What did you say, just now!" She felt her own patience begin to wane. "Oh here, let me read it for myself!" Cheyenne yanked the book out of his hands. She quickly scanned the page until she found what she wanted. "The lass will bear a great leader with a sire of her choosing." She jumped to her feet and stared directly at Darian. "A sire of her choosing," she repeated loudly, making sure everyone in the room heard. "So I can choose whomever I want," she declared boldly. "Now hold on a minute," Marion scolded, snatching the book back from her. "There's more to it than that. Confounded, lassie, be seated an' be patient. I'm gettin' to that." Cheyenne did as she was told and sank back down in her chair. But her heart was suddenly filled with hope. She could choose her mate, and that was all she needed to hear. It was over. The others might as well go home because she'd already chosen. She didn't care what they could prove or who they were, she only wanted Darian. We've found our deliverance. A smile played at the corner of Darian's mouth. Then he gave her a slight nod, as though he'd read her thoughts. 487

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"The sire must be of noble birth," Marion continued. "Well, that's nae a problem, every mon in here is of noble birth. An' 'e must prove 'imself to be strong, courageous, a good leader, resourceful, an' merciful." He paused on that note, seemingly letting them all digest the information. The first four character traits would be easily confirmed. It was obvious these men possessed them, they were each in positions of power. But mercy was a different story. True compassion was a rare commodity, and she doubted very few if any of them truly understood it. "There must be a challenge," one of the suitors cut in. "Aye, a competition with her bein' the prize," another chimed, pointing a meaty finger in Cheyenne's direction. Cheyenne stared at the man who'd just named her the coveted trophy. She quickly summed him up and decided he wouldn't be much of an opponent for Darian. With his short squatty frame, bulbous features, and obvious dull-wit, he didn't have much to offer. And it was unlikely he fit the prophecy's description of the qualifying candidate—he was completely repulsive to her. She slowly stood, clenched her fists at her sides, and walked a few steps toward him. Placing her hands on her hips, she leveled with a harsh glare. "My name is Cheyenne," she said coolly. "And I don't appreciate being labeled as an inanimate object. You forget, sir, that I shall choose my victor based on the five specified characteristics. And right now, you are definitely not in the lead." Cheyenne was pleased when the man merely sputtered and slumped back in his chair, too flabbergasted by her 488

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outward display of bravado to offer any suitable response. If these men think they're going to bully me around, they've got another thing coming. I'm from Earth, dammit, and women don't get treated this way there! She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the rest of the men around the room, daring someone else to offend her. Darian smothered a laugh behind his palm. Then he cleared his throat and rose to his feet. "M'Lady," he began, briefly bowing his head forward with respect. "I believe what Lord Oragyle is sayin', is that each of us should have to prove to ya that we are indeed worthy of yer divine regard. We are but humble servants, all eager ... uh, willin' to be chosen as yer loyal an' devoted mate." His deep baritone voice was as silky smooth as a saucer of fresh milk. Cheyenne's eyes narrowed with suspicion as she met his cocky gaze. Who does he think he's fooling? She tapped her foot with irritation when Darian sank back into his seat. There wasn't a single man in the room who had any intention of being loyal or devoted. There was only one thing on their minds, and it wasn't to be her humble servant. She had a bad feeling it would be the other way around, prophecy or not. "So it's settled then," another man to her right declared. "We'll have a competition. The winner will have to prove 'imself worthy of the Lady's choice." Cheyenne regarded him a minute. He was significantly younger than many of the others, probably only in his early to mid-twenties. But, despite his youth, he appeared fairly sure of himself. 489

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He sat calmly in his chair with one ankle resting easily on the opposite knee and his hands entwined behind his head. His long chocolate colored hair was pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck, and his square chin and angular jaws were without stubble or beard. He watched her with forest-green eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, and returned her astonished expression with a melting smile. Although he was seated, Cheyenne could tell he was tall, perhaps almost as tall as Darian. But his frame still lacked the age to have accumulated the amount of sinewy mass possessed by his more muscled cohorts. In time though, she imagined he'd be more than any one woman could handle. More than she cared to anyhow. Seeing she afforded him more than a casual unconcerned glance, he quickly stood and approached her. Bowing low at the waist, "Lord Keanu Aragard of Aragard Hold, m'Lady," he offered in a seductive honey-laden voice. Not quite knowing why, but feeling as though it was the appropriate thing to do, Cheyenne offered her hand. Without hesitation, Lord Aragard gently but firmly grasped it within his own. Then he turned it over and softly kissed her palm. The gesture was quite disturbing and a tad audacious. "If I may be so bold, m'Lady, yer as bright an' bonnie as a flower-laden meadow on the first day of a new sprin'." Then he released her, but not before caressing her fingers with his thumb. Cheyenne coolly smiled in return, carefully concealing her discomfort. And so the courtship begins. What this young man lacked for in brute strength, he obviously intended to 490

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make up for in wooing. Well, she had news for him, his sugarcoated affections didn't mean anything to her. As though fearing they might suddenly be lagging in brownie points, most of the others jumped to their feet and began introducing themselves. Each in turn bestowed upon her some sort of superficial declaration of admiration or shallow assertion of fondness. Cheyenne adeptly beamed with feigned appreciation and nodded her head at each of them, pretending to be taken aback by their sudden displays of approbation. All the while, her gaze kept shifting to Darian, who merely sat in his chair and watched the others as a hungry predator would its unsuspecting prey. Somehow, her response to Lord Aragard had elicited this reaction from the others. And it was quite obvious to her Darian wasn't too pleased about it. But in order to be fair to all, she had to acknowledge them. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to finally announce him as her chosen victor, not without expecting a rebellion of angry barbarians. Ignoring his subtle fuming, she focused on the men before her. By the time it was over, both her hands were soggy with saliva and her head was swimming with an overabundance of names and titles. She feared there'd be no way of keeping them straight. With the exception of Darian and Chris, all but one of her suitors properly introduced himself to her. Although it came as no surprise, Lord Maximus Ramekah apparently didn't see any necessity in announcing his name or title. Nor did he see the need for empty praises or useless declarations. 491

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When her gaze finally met his where he sat, a picture of complete ease as he casually lounged in his chair, Cheyenne also didn't see any need for meaningless introductions. He knew who she was, and she was all too aware of him. So without hesitation, she turned on her heels and headed back to her chair, leaving the arrogant Lord Ramekah to stare after her backside. "Now that we've wasted time with preamble, might we continue with more important matters?" Marion asked with annoyance as Cheyenne plopped down in her seat. She waved her hand and shrugged with indifference. She no longer cared what the old man had to say. The gears in her head were spinning, concocting a plan. Although many of the others seemed nice enough, and were certainly charming, there was only one man in this room who she cared to share her heart and her bed with, and right now he looked fit to skin her alive. Cheyenne glanced at Darian, batted her eyelashes with feigned innocence, and then offered him her sweetest smile. She was rewarded with a thunderous scowl that nearly brought her to giggles. She imagined it was all he could do to stay glued to his chair. An image of him carrying her struggling frame up the stairs at Brigette's suddenly popped in her head. He'd merely been angry with her then, now he was probably on the verge of exploding. She'd better calm his temper and fast. "Please, Marion, continue," she stated softly.

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The old man loudly cleared his throat. "Accordin' to the prophecy, the bairn must also be of noble birth. Which means, whoever is selected will have to marry—" "How do we know this is the chosen woman? I see no markin'." The man's deep voice easily drowned out Marion's. Cheyenne met Maximus's cold stare. And for the first time since she'd entered the room, he grinned at her. It was a hard dagger-laden smile that set her teeth on edge. This man was certainly going to be trouble. He was no fool. "Lord Andreas has assured me of the markin'," Marion returned. "I'll examine 'er m'self after we've—" Without even batting an eyelash, "Before I put my life on the line, an' tie m'self to this wench, I want to see the markin' with my own eyes." Maximus pointedly stared at Cheyenne. His voice was like a double-sided blade, one edged with curiosity, the other with malice. Several of the others began grumbling in agreement. As of yet, there was no validation to Darian's claim. Then, like a pack of rapacious dogs, they all turned on her and demanded proof. "I've seen the markin'," Chris—who up until this point had remained quiet—announced. "As have I," Darian reminded, obviously struggling to stay calm. Cheyenne suddenly imagined herself being stripped of all her clothes. The idea was disturbing, but not unlikely to occur. And the concern in Darian's expression only validated it.

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As though sensing her rising distress, he quickly jumped to his feet and strode to the center of the room. "On the life of my father, I swear it's the truth." "Yer father was a liar, as are you," Maximus boldly declared. Before the words had left his mouth, Darian drew his sword and pointed the deadly tip in Lord Ramakah's direction. "You'll pay fer that remark, competition or nae." But Maximus was quick to defend himself. With lightening fast speed and the grace of a cat, he leapt to his feet. Sword in hand, he was ready to battle. Not wanting to be outdone, the others quickly followed suit, each drawing their steel in preparation for a fight. "Tell me, Darian, how is it you an' yer brother have seen this markin'?" Maximus questioned, slowly circling around Darian and swishing his blade. "With yer history fer sharin' women, I dinna s'pose it should come as a surprise." He smiled when his comment elicited an angry curse from his foe, which was swiftly followed by a metallic arc that he adeptly blocked with his sword. "I saw how ya look at 'er," Maximus taunted, leaping out of the way of Darian's next swing. "Ya've the pathetic stare of a love-stricken fool. How do we know she doesn't already carry yer bairn?" "I can vouch fer that," a frail voice called from the doorway. "Her womanly flow has just recently ended." Everyone turned to look at the elderly woman who had silently entered the room. Undaunted by their harsh stares, Marge slipped through the crowd of raging testosterone and 494

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made her way to Cheyenne's side. With gentle fingers, she grasped Cheyenne's arm and urged her to her feet. "I can assure ya all, she's without child. An' as far as 'er purity goes, I dinna believe the prophecy is concerned with that. So, unless any of ya care to be judged on yer past behaviors, cast no stones upon this lass whose come to this forsaken world to save us all." Begrudgingly, the men began resheathing their swords. Their battles would come. But within the room's confining space, this was not the proper place nor time. **** Maximus sat down heavily in his chair. He still wasn't satisfied. He knew Darian and the lass had been intimate, it was as plain as day. And he'd certainly delight in nothing less than whisking this tasty morsel right out from beneath his hated enemy's nose. He was strong, brave, intelligent, and cunning—if he did say so himself—and he could certainly be merciful, to attain his goal. The lass would be his; there was no denying that. These others didn't stand a chance against his determination and skill. And when it was over, he'd delight in claiming his prize. Maybe he'd even get to kill his nemesis in the process. With a satisfied grin, he relaxed back into his chair. But he wasn't through baiting the trap yet. Ahh ... What fun this will be. "I still want to see the mark fer m'self," Maximus called, hoping to rile up some support from his pathetic opponents. 495

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"As do I," Lord Oragyle chimed in, casting the young woman a boastful sneer. "Aye, let us see the proof of 'er claim with our own eyes," another man yelled. Maximus smugly smiled to himself as he watched Darian's expression darken with anger. He didn't care if the wench really was who she claimed to be. The prophecy had to be a farce, for nothing short of a miracle would ever end the feuding between the clans. It had endured for hundreds of passes, and as long as he drew breath, it would continue. **** "Come, lass," Marge coaxed. "There'll be no end to their demandin' unless ya do as they ask." Cheyenne shrank back from Marge's grasp with horror. These men were nothing short of barbaric. She doubted even Darian and Gavin together could ensure her safety. There was no way she was removing her clothes! "No! I won't undress for a room full of uncivilized ... brutes!" She slowly backed away from the group until her bottom bumped into the desk. But the men were persistent. Their voices had changed from calm requests to boisterous demands. Within minutes, she'd have a full mutiny on her hands. Cheyenne scanned the room, searching for a means of escape. But unless she could make it through the musclebound barricade separating her from the door, there was no way out of this situation, which had gone from bad to worse. I'm trapped, she realized with the sinking of despair. 496

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She turned a pleading gaze to Darian, hoping he'd come to her rescue. But there was nothing he could do. Face grim, fists clenched, he quietly remained seated and waited for the inevitable. "Cheyenne," Marge urged softly. "Ya must. It's their right to see proof." Knowing she was defeated, Cheyenne reluctantly agreed. Slowly, she stepped toward Marge and turned her back to the group of insistent men. At least they can't demand proof of my purity," she thought wryly, trying to find some humor in all of this. She didn't even want to imagine what that would entail. Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to remain standing as she felt her dress slip to the floor around her feet. All that was separating their curious stares from an eyeful of her naked backside was a paper-thin shift. With all the strength she could muster, she slid the narrow straps from her shoulders and let the flimsy gown fall to the floor, leaving her completely nude before this group of callous men. **** Darian gripped the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white and nearly burst through the skin. It was all he could do to remain seated as several surprised and pleased gasps floated about the room. He wanted to run to Cheyenne and whisk her away from all of their assessing stares. Just the thought of any of these men touching her soft skin was enough to send him over the edge. 497

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Cheyenne's small frame was visibly shaking. He could tell she was terrified. A small part of him wished he'd never made her existence known, despite the law. If only that wench Crystal had never seen— When one of the men got up and started toward Cheyenne, Darian's patience finally gave. "Auria," he barked, jumping to his feet. In three long strides, he'd crossed the room and was standing beside her. He leaned over and snatched her crumpled clothes from the floor. Then he swiftly wrapped them around her trembling form, covering her nakedness. "Ya have yer proof. Now leave 'er be," he growled, eyeing the approaching man with a look a warning. "Take 'er out of here," he ordered to Marge, gently shoving them both toward the door. "Her presence is no longer needed." "It'll be okay, lass. I swear to you. I'll make it so," he whispered softly to Cheyenne, praying he spoke the truth. **** Cheyenne numbly nodded. She'd never been so humiliated in all her life. Whether they found her appealing or not wasn't the issue. The embarrassment had been nearly debilitating. How would she look any of them in the eye without imagining them ogling her naked backside? She shivered, mortified by what just occurred and was likely to come. Chosen one or not, these men had no regard for her personal well-being. They cared nothing for her 498

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esteem, her free spirit, her mind. No, their thoughts went little beyond fornication and sword fighting. **** Marge wrapped her arm around Cheyenne's tiny waist and held her tightly as they made their way to the door. Horrible men! Can't they see how terrified she is? But Marge knew these men didn't care how scared or disgraced or even down right disgusted Cheyenne was by their brutish behavior. They were driven by their own selfish desires and had no regard for a woman's pride. Only Darian will give this lass the love she needs, the love she deserves. Despite her own devotion to Chris, she prayed it was Darian who emerged the victor. But Chris wasn't her main concern. She'd seen how Maximus had watched not only Cheyenne, but Darian as well. How he'd carefully taken in Darian's distress and meticulously scrutinized his reaction to the others' admiration of Cheyenne's dark skin and wild beauty. Maximus knew there was something between the two. She'd bet her life on it. And with his brutal reputation, he'd no doubt use that weakness to his advantage. May the gods help us all. She sent up a silent prayer as she exited the room with a visibly shaken Cheyenne tucked under her arm.

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CHAPTER 35 Cheyenne casually strolled along the cobblestone path, occasionally stopping to admire an unusual specimen of flower—which abundantly adorned the expansive Andreas gardens—or to tickle one of the many colorful butterflies flitting from one place to another. Their nonstop darting was only interrupted when they paused to drink the coveted elixir from the infinite supply surrounding them. She enjoyed these peaceful moments of isolation, when she was alone—if you consider being trailed by two heavily armed bodyguards and a young handmaiden as being alone. Although their presence was unavoidable, they did at least keep their distance and didn't impose upon her desire for solitude. The last few days had been nothing short of mayhem and repetitive invasion of her privacy. Everywhere she went she was faced with a pushy suitor hoping to sway her decision into choosing him as her mate. The insistent badgering was driving her insane. At her wit's end, she'd finally pleaded with Marion to demand they all give her a daily reprieve. How did they expect her to think? Of course, she knew her mind was already made up, but she still had to play her cards right and seem unbiased. Stepping onto a narrow pathway, Cheyenne made her way through the towering walls of green shrubbery toward the sound of trickling water. No matter how many times she 500

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entered the gardens, she always seemed to find a new course. Whoever designed this blooming sanctuary was a genius indeed. One could easily lose themselves, purposely or not, amongst the boundless labyrinth of passageways and blooming vegetation. She'd just turned another corner when she ran smack into Darian, or rather an exact replica of him. Cheyenne stared in complete awe and appreciation. His likeness was precise, down to the very last detail. Once again, she found herself appreciating the unique artistic abilities on this otherwise primitive planet. Never had she seen a sculpture capture the true essence of its subject as this one did. But here he was, full-scaled with broad shoulders, bulging muscles, and massive thighs. Even the confident expression on his marble face was distinct enough to make her insides quiver with longing. It was only the pool of water surrounding the statue's base that kept her from cuddling up next to his stony image. I miss him so much. Will we ever get to be together again? Except for their occasional platonic meetings—as she had with all the men—they scarcely found more than a few stolen seconds of privacy. And even then they dared not touch each other lest someone see and Darian be disqualified for cheating. Although the men had yet to come to agreement on their competition, at least she'd been afforded the luxury that no one could touch her. That right was reserved solely for the victor. Even though it kept her safe from the other men, it 501

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also meant she had to suffer through no contact with the one man whose caress she craved. Cheyenne feared the collaborations would continue for some time yet. The problem seemed to come from determining the quality of mercy. How could they test true compassion for another life? Sure, any of them could prove their courage, their strength, their cunning, and their leadership ability through a gladiator-type trial, but what about mercy? Killing or not killing their opponent, did that show true leniency? Or would it only be a spectacle for show? Besides, she'd already made it quite clear no one, and she meant no one, was to lose his life during the course of the competition. Any man who killed an opponent was automatically disqualified. Even though her input was limited on the rest of the rules, she'd at least gotten them all to agree to that stipulation, albeit some of them begrudgingly. Cheyenne perched lightly on the stony edge of the fountain and dangled her fingertips in the refreshing water. A lily pad bumped against her hand, announcing she was blocking its path. She stroked the velvety petals of its ivory flower, loving the feel of the soft contours beneath her skin. Then she gently poked the surface of the pad, marveling at how the small pools of water resting on its surface raced from one edge to the next like tiny glistening beads. A large metallic-colored fish raced up from the depths, kissed the surface with a massive open mouth, then dived back down out of sight. Startled, Cheyenne yelped and jerked her hand from the pool. Cautiously, she peered into the 502

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sparkling water, hoping to catch another glimpse of the strange creature. It looked like a giant fancy goldfish with its large bulging eyes and lacey fins. Only it was shinier, covered with nickelsized scales, and considerably larger than any goldfish she'd ever seen. Whatever it was, it certainly scared the crap out of her. As though feeling itself being beckoned, the peculiar fish slowly made its way back to the surface. It seemed almost as afraid of her as she was of it. Hovering just beyond reach, it casually studied Cheyenne, while she in return did the same. Wondering about her sanity, Cheyenne gradually dipped her hand into the water. She wiggled her fingers, trying to coax the fish to come closer so she might feel its strange texture. It had just edged its way near her beckoning digits when a sound from behind nearly made her jump out of her skin. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a voice warned. It was deep and resonant, and laced with an edge of sarcasm. Cheyenne squealed and jumped up from her perch. She spun around to face her intruder, and came face to face with the one man who made her insides tremble with fear. Maximus. She quickly glanced around, looking for her guards. Seeing they were only a few yards away and steadily watching her, she allowed herself a tiny sliver of confidence. With a haughty toss of her head, she swiped off the back of her dress and stepped past him. 503

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"You're not supposed to be here," she claimed coolly, displaying considerable more poise than she felt. Ignoring her dismissal, "That's a barrakai," he said. "They're nae too friendly." Cheyenne's step faltered a bit, but she pretended not to hear him, nor care. "Why do ya run from me? Have I done somethin' to frighten or offend ya?" Cheyenne froze. Slowly, she turned to face him. For some strange reason, she felt the heavy weight of guilt upon her shoulders. Actually, no, he hadn't. Her fears were based on the opinions of others. Even though Gavin and Thor had warned her about Chris and they'd certainly been right, she knew her prejudgment of Maximus was unfair. Until he actually did something offensive, she shouldn't treat him as though he had. With the exception of their first encounter, when he'd been the instigator of her humiliating exposure, he'd been nothing but polite and actually quite charming toward her. She supposed if she'd been in his shoes, she might have demanded the same. There was a lot at stake here, and these men were all willing to lay down their lives for the honor of being her mate. The least they deserved was proof their efforts weren't in vain. Yet, there was a tiny voice in her head that chimed with alarm whenever he was near. Was it because Marge and Darian had preprogrammed that fear? Or was it rightly 504

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warranted? Truly, Darian did stand to gain by swaying her view of the other men. Perhaps she should try to dissuade her thoughts from centering on what she'd been told, and let her own intuition guide her. Until now, she'd set her mind and her heart on picking who she wanted. But was that decision fair? The prophecy commanded she choose the most deserving man. Unfortunately, it didn't care if she was already in love with Darian. Damn! Why does this have to be so difficult? And why does my conscience always seem to get the better of me? Maximus cleared his throat, interrupting Cheyenne's wandering thoughts and instantly bringing her back to his attention. "M'Lady? If an apology is warranted—" "No," Cheyenne cut in. "It's I who should apologize. I've been short and unfair with all of you." Mustering her courage, Cheyenne took a step toward him. "You've truly done nothing to warrant such treatment." Maximus smiled. "No apology needed. I only wish to ... repair any negative ideations ya've created of me," he said smoothly, his voice velvety soft. "Shall we start over?" Cheyenne returned his smile and nodded her head. Yes. That would be appropriate. And then, hopefully, when she did choose Darian as her champion, she wouldn't be riddled with guilt or accused of cheating. Maximus beamed with obvious pleasure. He extended his hand in invitation, which Cheyenne dutifully responded to by offering her own in acceptance. Then he bowed forward and gently kissed her knuckles. 505

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"I wish fer no more than to prove my worth to ya, m'Lady," he declared, straightening once again to his full towering height. Cheyenne felt a butterfly tremor pass through her chest. She wasn't sure if it was from attraction or ambiguity. If following her instinct was her plan, then right now it was cautioning her that there was something false behind his handsome exterior and seeming desire to please. Perhaps it was the smug tilt of his mouth, or the shrouded expression in his eyes. Whatever it was, she had the distinct feeling he was hiding his true agenda. Two can play that game. Cheyenne smiled as charmingly as she could. "Well then, m'Lord," she purred. "I should do no less than wish you good luck." Then she turned on her heels and strode toward the exiting pathway. **** Maximus silently watched her retreat. He could see why Darian had fallen for her. She was certainly beautiful, maybe one of the most stunning women he'd ever laid eyes on. And she obviously had an intelligent humor about her. She was by no means a dim-witted chit, or bore the silliness possessed by most of Zandar's women. Nay, this is a rare find indeed. And he intended on claiming her for his own. "I'd advise keepin' yer aspirations low, m'Lord," a voice warned from the shadows. Surprised by the intrusion, Maximus swiftly turned to defend himself against his silent and adept stalker. His hand 506

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instantly reached for the hilt of his sword, deftly drawing it and positioning the tip in preparation for a strike. He didn't like being snuck up on. "The last mon who slipped up behind me was promptly relieved of his head," Maximus growled. Gavin chuckled. "There's no need in that, Maximus. I only wish to ensure the lady's safety. I've no faith in the skills of others." He indicated toward the two guards trailing behind Cheyenne's fleeting form. Maximus raised a suspicious brow. Resheathing his sword, "An' why are you so concerned fer 'er well bein'?" Gavin shrugged indifferently. "Zandar's future rests on 'er protection. Nay?" Maximus snorted. "Bah! I care naught of the prophecy. Some silly ol' mon dreamt it up, an' here all of Zandar has held on to that empty promise fer hundreds of passes. My desire fer attainin' victory is to show proof the Ramekah Clan is superior over all other clans. We are the rightful rulers of the Andreas Territory. I will regain what's justly mine. An' if it's through this lass, then so be it." Gavin's eyes narrowed. "Then you, m'Lord, are in this competition fer the wrong reasons. An' ya shall surely fail. I'm confident Cheyenne will see through yer façade an' choose 'er champion on the correct principles laid forth by the prophecy's guidelines." "Cheyenne is it?" Maximus threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. Regaining control of his mirth, he fixed Gavin with a leveling stare. "It appears yer interest runs deeper than 507

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concern fer Zandar's future. Ya have yer own personal gain involved, nay? Tell me," he sneered. "What does Lord Andreas think of yer ... association with his woman?" **** Gavin was slightly taken aback by Maximus's keen sense of perception. But it mattered not. His feelings for Cheyenne were unimportant. He wasn't a qualifying candidate, but Darian was. And his objective was to insure his friend emerged the final victor, one way or another. Ignoring Maximus's subtle accusation, Gavin took a threatening step toward his foe. "Heed my words, Lord Maximus Ramekah of the Ramekah Clan, Lady Cheyenne will choose the right suitor. An' it willna be you." Maximus nodded in acknowledgement. "We shall see." Satisfied he'd made his point, Gavin strode toward the path exiting the fountain sanctuary. He'd just passed through the flower-laden doorway, nearly out of hearing range, when a condemning remark from Maximus instantly halted his step. "Ya know; Lord Andreas an' Lady Cheyenne seem quite friendly to just be recently acquainted." Seeing he had Gavin's full attention, Maximus cheerfully continued without waiting for a response. "Accordin' to the law, all Lords an' High Ranking Officials are s'posed to be notified immediately of the chosen one's arrival. To ignore the law is considered treason, punishable by death. Tell me, how long did Darian hide 'er existence? Was it long enough to sway 'er heart? Win 'er favor? Gain welcome into 'er bed?" 508

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A hundred responses popped into Gavin's head. But all of them would have only served to further incriminate his friend. And the last thing he wanted was to cause Darian's elimination, not only from the competition, but also from existence. So he merely stood, back stiff, fists knotted at his sides, pride suppressed. **** Maximus smiled to himself. Aye, my intuition is correct. Crossing his arms, he casually leaned back against the hedge. He really didn't care about the time discrepancy. But he did delight in making Gavin squirm with unease. He was certain Darian would be informed immediately of his encounter with Cheyenne and of his curious inquisition, and then the real fun would begin. He was slightly disappointed when Gavin didn't reply. The fuming armsman was obviously struggling with self-restraint. His rigid stance bespoke of nothing less than fury bordering on outrage. Maximus doubted Darian would practice such control if faced with the same accusation. He'd love to test his theory, but there was no way of doing so without alerting the others to the topic of concern. And the last thing he wanted was to get Darian eliminated. After all, this was a prime opportunity to face his foe in competition and prove himself the better man, once and for all. The look on Darian's face when he claimed his prize would be all the satisfaction he needed. No, he'd keep his suspicions to himself. He had much more to gain by remaining quiet. 509

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"What?" he jibbed, hoping to push Gavin a little more. "Have ya naught to say? No defense? No denial?" When Gavin slowly turned to face him, Maximus could tell he struggled to stay poised. But he wasn't finished baiting his enemy's most trusted warrior. He wondered how much it would take to break him. "I dinna s'pose the time frame really matters. However, I do believe Darian has already tainted the final decision." He shrugged then, feigning indifference. "Perhaps nae. Mayhap I'll pose the matter to Lady Cheyenne 'erself. After all, since I'm a qualified competitor, it's my right to know if my prize is soiled goods." **** In one swift motion, Gavin withdrew his sword and closed the distance between them. He pointed the deadly tip under Maximus's chin, placing the cold steel against the man's flesh. "If I recall," he growled, his voice laced with warning. "The prophecy wasn't interested in 'er chastity. The matter is of no concern to you. I'd advise lettin' it be." Maximus held his arms up in mock defense. "Auria, auria." Then, with careful fingers, he gently shoved the menacing tip aside. "I'll keep my suspicions to m'self. Ya've no cause fer worry. I dinna want Darian eliminated any more than you. Besides, I shall discover the truth, eventually." Gavin took a step back, keeping his sword at eye level. "Ya count yer fortune before it's won, Lord Ramekah." "Ah," Maximus replied, holding his palms out to his sides as though he were welcoming the embrace of such riches. 510

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"But I've the patience of a saint an' the poise of a conqueror," he boasted. "Besides, my wits are nae dulled by the hamper of emotional attachment, as are those of yer Lord's. I am destined to win." Gavin snorted with disgust. "Ya waste my time." With that, he resheathed his sword and strode to the exit, ignoring Maximus's mocking chuckle behind him. To linger in Lord Ramekah's presence was folly. The man was as deadly as a snike and relentless as a tigre. Maximus could speculate all he wanted. There were only a handful of people who knew the truth, and he was certain none of them would betray Darian. But maybe he better speak to each one personally, to assure himself of their loyalty. Right now, he needed to find his Lord and warn him of Maximus's subtle threats. How had he entered the gardens anyhow? They were supposed to be off limits during Cheyenne's time of respite. He wondered if maybe there was a snike in their own ranks. With that unsettling thought plaguing his brain, he set out to find Darian.

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CHAPTER 36 Cheyenne perched on the edge of her seat, patiently waiting for the rest of the men to file into the meeting hall. They seemed ill-tempered, as though not at all pleased about her presence. She overheard a couple grumbling about the absurdity of her input, and a few muttered choice words floated to her ears on hushed whispers. Well, if it was any consolation to them, she was just as unhappy about the whole damn situation as they were. She was shocked her attendance was even accepted in to what had been known thus far as an off-limits activity for her. They were reluctant before to accept any of her opinions on the competition guidelines, what made Darian so sure they'd do so now? When Marion had come to her earlier and announced that her presence was required to help solve a problem with the final category, she'd merely stared at him in dazed silence. "It appears as though we've reached an impasse," he'd explained. "An' I'm afraid no amount of deliberation is gonna settle it. I believe it requires a more ... how should I say, feminine point of view." Cheyenne had folded her arms across her breasts and smiled with smug satisfaction. "Let me guess ... None of those pretentious fools possess even an iota of mercy. Do they?" It was more a declaration than a question. Marion had shuffled around with unease, avoiding her interrogative stare. Reluctantly, he'd nodded his head in 512

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confirmation. "If it's any consolation, lass," he'd whispered, keeping his tone low and inaudible to anyone but her. "'Twas Lord Andreas 'imself who proposed this solution." Cheyenne had smiled to herself, wondering what Darian was up to. Nodding with acceptance, she'd quickly excused herself from breakfast and went to her chamber to prepare, guards and handmaiden in tow. "If all of ya are ready, we shall begin." Marion's screechy voice rang out amongst the complaining troupe. The men reluctantly settled down and fixed their annoyance on the old man at the head of the long wooden table. Cheyenne was seated on Marion's right, and returned the irritated stares with more poise and dignity than she felt. Her outward display of composure belied the anxiety racing through her insides. Be strong, she coached herself. No one can touch you, no matter how angry they are. This was going to be a long meeting. She could tell by the rebellious glares being thrown in her direction that she wasn't welcome here. But if this was the only opportunity she had to get in her say, then no amount of intimidation was going to back her down. She searched the length of the expansive table, looking for the one man, the only man, whom she cared to lock eyes with, and nearly sighed with relief when she found him. He was sitting at the opposite end, a million miles away. Darian subtly nodded his head reassuringly, and it was all the support she needed. Suddenly, she felt strength pouring 513

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through her veins and knew they could face this challenge with confidence. At least someone was on her side. Somehow, the final test would be the determining factor in her decision. She knew this just as she knew there wasn't any other man in this room she could bear to have hold or touch her as Darian had. This would be their edge, their secret weapon. And she had a blossoming idea of what it might be. "I believe," Marion continued, ignoring his audience's badtempered mood. "Lady Cheyenne should be informed of the decided trials." Cheyenne nodded her head in agreement. Yes, she certainly wanted to know what horrific games these men had conjured up to prove their worth. She imagined they would be nothing less than appalling. As Marion described the upcoming trials, Cheyenne found it increasingly difficult to hold her tongue. Sword fighting, jousting, team-sports, they'd even come up with an atrocious gladiator-type course with swinging rocks, slashing swords, and God only knew what other hideous tests these men had to transverse in order to prove their resourcefulness and skill. Worse yet, none other than their ruthless opponents would control the ghastly test stations! She didn't see how any of them could pass all that, not even Darian. Her hasty assurance deflated like a balloon with a gaping hole. How in the world do any of them expect to survive? But it was the final test that really jolted her insides. "An' lastly, there'll be a hunt. The mon who brin's back the most ferocious beast will be considered the victor," Marion 514

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declared proudly, as though the men had really assembled a competition worthy of the cause. Even if they had, Cheyenne couldn't condone the last trial. "Will these animals be alive when they're brought back?" she asked with wavering hope, even though a part of her already knew the answer. Marion looked stunned, as though her question were absurd. "N ... nay. That's the purpose of a hunt, to display one's—" "I specifically declared no one was to lose their life," she cut in. "Ya said no mon," a deep voice countered. It was none other than Maximus. Arrogant ass! Her eyes narrowed with annoyance when they met his mocking grin. "Yes, but I meant all life," she argued, not to be daunted. "I'm sorry, m'Lady," Marion interjected. "That stipulation wasn't proposed when the trial was voted on." "But I don't want them to—" "I say we get on with the purpose of this meetin'. The lass has been informed of the games, it's time to move on to solvin' the issue of the final test," Lord Grisham declared, stroking his salt and pepper goatee with one long index finger. Fighting back tears, Cheyenne glared daggers at all of them. Apparently there was nothing she could do about the hunt. They'd already made up their minds and didn't care what she thought. Well, that wasn't going to rank high in her 515

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compassion checklist! She'd just given every single one of them a big fat red X. She glanced down at Darian. His face was cold, hard, and unreadable. She didn't know what his take was on all of this. And right now, she wasn't sure she wanted to. Her heart ached with the disappointment that he might find pleasure in killing for sport. The need for food was one thing, but just for the fun of it? Just to prove a point? She saw no power in that, no strength, no cunning, and certainly no mercy. "M'Lady?" Marion placed a gentle hand on her forearm, interrupting her sudden melancholy. Cheyenne snapped back to the matter at hand. "Fine. So be it," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Can we at least add the stipulation that every animal must be usable? By this I mean their meat and their pelt. I don't want anything killed without just cause. And that would certainly take a little more thought and resourcefulness on the hunter's part." "But, m'Lady," Lord Aragard began with a silken purr. "There is just cause. It's fer you. No other cause could be more worthy." Although his words were intended to flatter her, they did little more than add kindling to her growing fury. Cheyenne focused her fuming gaze on him. "Lord Aragard," she began, struggling to remain calm. "I don't see how killing a defenseless animal could prove anything beyond brute strength and superior weaponry." "Ah, but we're nae talkin' about rabats or dires, lass. Which are, as ya say, quite defenseless. We're talkin' about 516

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tigres, wooves, an' alligar," Maximus teased. "Mayhap even a barrakai or two," he added smugly. Cheyenne tried her best to ignore Maximus's cajoling. He was definitely getting a big X. Damnable men! They were just a bunch of selfish, pig-headed, womanizing— "The last trial," Marion yelled, his high-pitched voice an irritating screech as he tried once again to steer the meeting to its proper course. "Must test the quality of mercy. Does anyone have a suggestion, besides the ridiculous notions we've already entertained?" A few of the men grumbled amongst themselves, obviously those who'd already posed their ideas and were rejected. Cheyenne's curiosity was tweaked. She wondered what tests they'd already discussed. Unable to contain her interest, she had to ask. "I don't know of these ridiculous notions," she interjected. "Tell me, so I don't suggest any of the same." Marion looked strangely horrified, as though she'd asked to know the meaning of life itself. Cheyenne wondered if perhaps she'd spoken too soon. This wouldn't be the first time her inquisitiveness had gotten her into an awkward situation. But surely the suggestions couldn't be that bad. What could be worse than the trials they'd already conjured up? She had a sinking feeling she was about to find out. Marion nervously cleared his throat. "Does anyone care to enlighten the lady on the past proposals?" he squeaked, sounding as though he'd swallowed a dog toy.

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The room grew uncomfortably quiet. Apparently, no one had the inkling to bring his thoughts to the table, so to speak. Perhaps they hoped she'd just forget it and move on. Cheyenne patiently waited. They weren't getting out of it that easy. The hairs on her arms bristled in alarm and she started to wonder what had been suggested. "Marion?" Her tone held a touch of indecision. Marion was quiet a long while, as if pondering how to present the ideas in the least upsetting manner. Then he cleared his throat once again, preparing himself to begin. "Well ... Let's see if I can remember them all, an' who presented 'em." Several men around the table suddenly looked nervous. Cheyenne felt her stomach lurch into her throat. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. She could certainly foresee humiliation on the horizon. Hers. As Marion began to describe the various proposals, Cheyenne sank lower and lower into her chair. These men had no idea what real mercy was. What compassion meant. What kindness, sympathy, or benevolence entailed. Did they honestly think feeding the hold poor for a few days—as one had suggested—showed consideration? How about giving those families a home? Jobs? Education? The submissions were downright absurd. They ranged from harmless ideas of expressing their sole devotion to her through prose—which, looking at the burly lot before her, made her almost laugh out loud to imagine any of them being poets—to setting dangerous criminals free. That's not mercy, that's stupidity! 518

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Cheyenne shook her head with disbelief. Couldn't they come up with anything better? Apparently, each man knew his suggestion was lame, for every one looked embarrassed and avoided her scrutinizing gaze when his name was mentioned. "And finally," Marion said, cutting into her wandering thoughts. "'Twas proposed Lady Cheyenne accompany each of 'er male suitors on a private outin'. They would spend an entire day together without the escort of a guard or handmaiden. This would, as Lord Aragard suggested, give the contender more time to impress his true skills of compassion an' kindness, without the constraint of ... interruption," he concluded. Cheyenne's mouth dropped to her chest as the old man relayed the last idea. While the other suggestions had been fairly harmless, this one was not. It bordered on invasion of her personal privacy, namely her body. And she was having no part of that. Did they think she was stupid? She was sure the first regulation to go on those so-called outings would be the you can't touch me rule. Unable to control her temper, she jumped to her feet. "Do you, any of you, honestly think I'm that dim-witted? I know exactly what would happen on every one of those dates. There's not a man in this room I feel would be a complete gentleman and keep his hands to himself!" Furious at their audacity, Cheyenne's hands knotted into fists. Her whole body trembled with outrage. How dare they treat me like this! 519

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"And what makes you think I'd agree to being alone with any of you? With no one to call to for—" "That's the point, m'Lady. The man who practiced the most restraint would prove his mercy," Marion stated calmly, as though that would appease her. "Mercy?" Cheyenne gasped, nearly choking on the word. "And what of those who don't practice any? Am I supposed to just grin and bear whatever they choose to do to me? That's like ... that's like giving any one of these men the okay to rape me," she squeaked, horrified by the possibility. "Well, I agree," Marion countered. "Although the prophecy isn't concerned with yer purity—" "My purity," she roared. "What about my pride? My rights? This is my body and no one, not a single one of you, will touch it unless I okay it. Do you got that? Do all of you?" "There's no cause to get yerself all flustered, Cheyenne," Maximus crooned. It was the first time any of them had called her specifically by her first name, and she didn't like it. He was getting a little too familiar with her, and it was about time she set him straight. She pointed a scolding finger toward Lord Ramekah. "You, sir, will address me as—" "The concern fer yer safety leant cause to abolish the suggestion, m'Lady," Darian declared, cutting into her fury. "We decided there are none among us we could trust to present themselves as honorable gentlemen, an' so the idea was rejected."

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Cheyenne was flooded with relief. Darian himself had no doubt fought that proposition. She was grateful at least one of them had some common sense. They'd gone from praising her as the chosen one, to belittling her into nothing more than a common whore. What did they think? That she'd eagerly sleep with each of them, and then decide which one she liked best? Lord Aragard must have forgotten along the way that the word was com-passion, not passion! She wasn't judging their ability in the bedroom here. And being a giving lover didn't make you merciful. However, with their limited knowledge of women's rights, she could see how they might construe such a ridiculous concept. Cheyenne shuddered. The idea made her sick. He was definitely getting a big red X, with lots of exclamation points behind it! As though realizing he'd just lost any leading edge he might have had in her favor, Lord Aragard jumped to his feet and humbly bowed before her. "I apologize, m'Lady, fer upsettin' ya. I ne'er intended to put ya in harm's way. I s'pose I hadn't considered the notion that some of the others would be anythin' less than chivalrous in yer company. I only feel that with the constant presence of yer bodyguards, I've found it difficult to adequately display my selfless traits." "What ya mean, is that by havin' a guard around prevents ya from gettin' under 'er skirts," Chris jeered. Lord Aragard deftly withdrew his sword and offered a challenge to his accuser. "Ya shall regret yer allegation, Lord—" 521

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"Enough!" Cheyenne barked, just as Chris jumped to his feet, sword in hand. "It's obvious none of you understand the true meaning of mercy, which leads me to the conclusion that few of you, if any, truly possess it. So I have a proposition of my own." Obviously shocked by the authority in Cheyenne's voice, Chris and Lord Aragard instantly halted their disagreement, resheathed their swords, and quickly found their seats. All eyes were focused on her. Even Maximus's expression held a strange look of admiration. Requiring an outside source of strength, Cheyenne sought Darian's face. His approving nod was all she needed. With a voice that rang clear with conviction, she announced her suggestion. "Since this seems to be the most difficult trait to prove, then it should be the last test, reserved only for those who pass the others. I'm assuming many of you won't. Therefore, it'll be left to the true champions to complete this task. I propose the final contestants present me with a gift. But not just any gift. It must be a sincere offering that's not only appealing to me, but is also a token of the presenter's mercy." Satisfied with herself, Cheyenne plopped back down in her seat. She could tell by the vacant expressions on many of their faces that most of them didn't understand. Only a few seemed to grasp the concept. And more likely than not, it would be those few who advanced to the final test.

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"But, m'Lady," one of the men began. "If it's a gift ya desire, then I shall give ya a coffer full of jewelry an' furs. Anythin' ya want." "Yes, that would certainly be pleasing," Cheyenne responded. "But how would it characterize your mercy?" The man's brow burrowed in confusion and he sank back in his chair. "Can ya give us an idea of what ya consider a worthy gift?" another man asked. "We can't read yer mind, so a guessin' game isn't fair." "I understand this is a difficult task. And that's why I feel it's the best test of not only your mercy, but also your cunning and skill. The man who comes up with such a token will be a true champion indeed, worthy of the right to sire my child. I have no doubt all of you are skilled in the use of weaponry and warfare, but it'll take more to raise a child. And that's the mate I desire, someone who'll teach our child to be a leader of men." Marion smiled with approval. "Any objections to the proposal?" A few of the men seemed on the verge of protesting. But Cheyenne steadily eyed them with warning. Apparently, none wished to displease her, so they remained mute. Satisfied the trail was acceptable to all, Marion declared it official. The contenders slowly filed out of the room. Some wore expressions riddled with confusion, while others seemed to be plotting their strategy to win. Cheyenne was pleased with her idea. She just hoped Darian was one of the final contestants. Then there'd be no 523

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way anyone could say she'd chosen unfairly. The biggest part of the competition would be up to him. He'd have to advance through each level. Then she'd finalize the end, rightfully declaring him the victor. **** Darian lingered a while, as did a few of the others, Maximus being one of them. Having to keep his distance from Cheyenne was driving him insane. He could scarcely think whenever she was in the same room, let alone concentrate on the upcoming competition. He was like a starving man with a tempting buffet before him. So close, and yet still untouchable. He knew he needed his senses about him for the contest, but he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but her. As he waited for the others to finally leave, Darian noticed Maximus had slipped up behind Cheyenne. He watched in strained silence as his enemy leaned close to her ear. Jealousy scoured his insides. If it wasn't for the fear of elimination, he'd call his hated rival out right there, demand a duel. But instead, Darian maintained his calm, gritting his teeth as he watched Cheyenne's composed expression change to shock and her cheeks redden with embarrassment. Whatever Maximus just said had either frightened or aroused her. He wasn't sure which. Darian's vision clouded with a haze of fury. He couldn't stand by and idly watch Maximus work his charms on his 524

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woman. That was just intolerable. Jumping to his feet, he casually but purposely started toward them. **** Cheyenne had risen from her seat and was getting ready to leave when Maximus's deep voice nearly caused her legs to buckle beneath her. "I personally liked the idea of a private outin'. Just the two of us." His tone was sensual, seductive. And his warm breath moved through her hair like a fleeting whisper. "Of course, I would've been a perfect gentlemen. Unless ya'd asked me to be otherwise," he purred. Cheyenne's stomach flip-flopped in response. She suddenly felt nauseous. Her hands began to shake and she thought she might just fall right there on the floor. Maximus might think she wasn't impervious to his charms, but she knew he was only out for one thing, and that was to beat Darian. It had nothing to do with her. Unaffected by his verbal caress, "I seriously doubt that," she responded smartly, hoping to knock him off his block of arrogance. Maximus chuckled, seemingly amused by her icy response. He casually strolled around her stiff frame, then leaned against the table to face her. As he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulged above his shirtsleeves like massive rocks and his broad shoulders blocked her view of everything but him.

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Cheyenne clenched her teeth. Although she despised him, and what he was obviously trying to do, she couldn't help but feel drawn to his virile magnetism. Oh, he's good. He knows exactly what he's doing. And yet another similar Andreas trait. Seems masterful seduction runs in the genes. "Hmm..." he started with a seductive drawl. "I'm thinkin' mayhap ya wouldn't want me to be a gentlemen." His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip while he openly assessed her from head to foot. "I think beneath that prim exterior there's a—" "You, sir, are pushing your limits with me!" Cheyenne snapped, trying to keep her voice low so as not to alarm Darian, who had just risen from his chair and watched them with an angry scowl. "I don't believe what I like or don't like when it comes to ... on that particular topic is any of your concern at this time." She turned her nose up and averted her gaze, trying to dismiss Maximus and hoping he'd get the point and leave, quickly. But apparently, he wasn't finished taunting her. Or perhaps it wasn't her he was trying to rile. Cheyenne suddenly realized Maximus wasn't just trying to verbally seduce her. He wanted to get a rise out of Darian. And he was about to get his wish. "I'll bet Lord Andreas knows what those deep dark secrets are. Nay? Tell me, can 'e make ya scream with pleasure? Make ya buck like a wild stallion? Have ya moanin' an' pantin' 'til ya feel ya can take no more?" 526

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Maximus carefully watched her face. Then he smiled, apparently recognizing not only understanding of what he described, but also the vulnerable look of guilt. Cheyenne knew she was caught. She felt panic beginning to rise within her. Please, God. Don't let him guess the truth. Don't let him call us— "I'll bet I can," Maximus said smugly. "That an' so much more." An involuntary shudder shook Cheyenne's frame. She wasn't sure if it was the shock of being exposed, or his brazen description of it. How does he know? She hadn't told anyone. And she was certain Darian hadn't either. "I ... don't ... know what—" she stuttered, feebly trying to defend herself. "Come on, Cheyenne, dinna play coy. I can see it in yer eyes. Both of ya. Darian quivers with fury whenever any of the others approach ya. That isn't the behavior of a warrior in pursuit of a victory. It's the pathetic conduct of a mon in love." Cheyenne opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come. Unable to hide her fear, she felt tears moisten her lashes. She turned a tremulous gaze to Maximus, begging him with her eyes to be silent. All it would take was for him to call the others back and announce her and Darian's past affair and he'd be disqualified. But that's what he wanted, wasn't it? Darian offered him the biggest challenge. With him out of the way— 527

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"Dinna fret, lass. I'm nae gonna tell. It'll be our wee secret." His voice was like the slithering of a snake, and it sent tiny shivers racing down her spine. Frozen with fear, Cheyenne stared back at him in mute silence. Maximus's firm mouth curled into a mischievous smile. "I s'pose I'll just have to accept that my prize is soiled goods," he began with a sultry purr. Resting his full weight on the table's edge, he slid his right foot over until his outer thigh pressed against hers. "But I'm sure ya can make up fer it." Heat shot up her leg as though his very touch was empowered with fire. She suddenly understood the fear this man invoked in others. His intimidation was meticulous and precise. And he obviously took great pleasure in delivering subtle threats. "What do you want?" she finally whispered through chattering teeth. She desperately wanted to step away, but wasn't sure she could even move. "Oh, I dinna want anythin'. I intend to win this competition fair an' square. I dinna need any special favors from you. However, when it comes to the final test, an' ya have to choose between me an' 'im, I suggest ya choose wisely." Cheyenne grit her teeth. Squinting her eyes with restrained anger, "What makes you so sure it'll be—" "Ya know as well as I do that Darian an' m'self will more than likely be the remainin' competitors," Maximus cut in sharply, as though her persistent attempt at being naïve had begun to irritate him. "Yer nae stupid, lass. I knew that the 528

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moment I laid eyes on ya. So dinna bother wastin' my time with actin'—" "I think ya've occupied the lady's attention long enough, Maximus. It's time ya moved along," Darian interjected with a threatening growl. He almost sounded like a menacing guard dog. Seeing he'd pushed his foe to the limits, Maximus made a mock salute with his index finger and pushed away from the table. "See ya at dawn," he said cheerily as he passed by Darian and headed for the door. **** Darian watched Maximus through narrow eyes until he exited the room. Then he turned his attention back to Cheyenne. "What'd 'e say to ya?" He didn't like the paleness of her skin or the bleak expression on her face. "More than you'd want to know," she whispered. Darian wanted to grab her arms and shake some sense into her, but he knew to do so would risk elimination. "Cheyenne," he persisted with forced calm. "What happened?" "He knows, Darian. He knows," was all she could get out before bursting into tears. Darian was thankful everyone else—with the exception of Cheyenne's ever-present guards who were employed by him—had left the room. Or else someone might think he were the cause for her grief. In a voice tight with strain, "I know," Darian replied. "Gavin told me about the meetin' in the gardens." 529

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"Gavin?" Cheyenne asked with a choked sob. "How did he—?" "He was there the whole time. Do ya think I trust yer safety to just anyone? Yer too important to me." Her grief struck a cord deep within his him, causing him physical pain. It was almost as if he'd been pierced by an enemy's steely blade. Unable to control himself any longer, Darian gathered her in his arms. He stroked her hair and softly whispered words of reassurance. "It's all right. Everythin' will be all right." Maybe if he said it enough, even he would believe it. "He told me I have to choose him," Cheyenne cried. "He what?" Darian asked incredulously. "He said that when it comes to the final test and you two are the only ones left, I better choose wisely," she clarified. "Ya will." "But unless I choose—" "Nay, 'e can threaten all 'e wants, but the final test will be observed by all the suitors an' Marion 'imself. Ya will choose the rightful victor, an' there'll be nothin' Maximus or I can do about it." "But I want to choose you," Cheyenne protested. "An' ya will," he concluded. "Justly." "Someone approaches, m'Lord," one of the guards called. Darian immediately released Cheyenne. He strode to the window and casually leaned against the sill, hoping to appear at ease. The last thing he needed was to be accused of inappropriate contact by a suitor hoping to get an edge over him. 530

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Cheyenne quickly dried her tears and straightened her skirt. She only hoped her misery wasn't blatantly obvious to whomever entered the room. When Gavin strode through the door, everyone audibly sighed with relief, even the guards. "Gavin," Darian scolded. "Ya scared the Hades out of me." Gavin gave him boyish smile. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just wanted to let ya know everythin's been positioned, just as ya ordered. The gauntlet is complete an' the boundary markers are set." Darian nodded approval. "Well done." He turned to Cheyenne and bowed. "If you'll excuse me, m'Lady. I must go an' prepare." Then he turned on his heels and headed for the door. "Darian, wait! What's going on?" Darian paused at the threshold. He glanced back at Cheyenne and felt his heart clench with distress as he took in the mixture of fear and anguish in her lovely face. "The games begin at dawn," he said, then strode from the room, leaving her to stare after him in stunned silence.

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CHAPTER 37 Cheyenne stared into the mirror, not really seeing the reflection that gazed back out at her. She scarcely noticed the pulling and tugging as Sari struggled to get her thick locks twisted into some semblance of order atop her head. This was it, the final day. The trials had encompassed nine long days. Now they'd finally reached the end. And it was her turn to play. She'd barely watched any of the games, finding them almost too grisly and nerve-wracking to bear. The primary test had been the gauntlet, which she knew would be shocking. But watching it had been utterly horrifying. The images would surely haunt her dreams for a long time to come. Even the historical gladiator games played on Earth paled in comparison to the brutality of this sadistic course. A man who dared entered such a death trap must truly possess no fear. It looked nearly impossible to survive, especially when operated by those who wanted nothing more than to see their opponent lose. Although none of the men had escaped the gauntlet unscathed, at least all had survived. Seven had been eliminated in that initial game. And Cheyenne was certain those unfortunates would return home with more than just physical scars to remind them of their failure. The second trial had been composed of several tests of skill including such sports as archery and ring jousting. With 532

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little to no risk to one's safety involved, Cheyenne had found great pleasure in watching the men perform. Their movements and dexterity were breathtaking to behold, indescribably beautiful, if these men could be considered such. All eight had been comparably proficient in every area, but according to the rules, two were eliminated. And Lord Aragard was one of the ill-fated. Albeit much complaining and arguing, he'd taken his place amongst the other losers, participating as a spectator and watching the remaining six contestants continue their quest for victory. The third trial had been hand-to-hand combat, employing every weapon imaginable from swords and daggers, to mallets and chains. Although the men certainly sustained and dealt out a variety of non-life threatening injuries, no one had dared to break the rules and kill their opponent. Deadly blows were stopped short only centimeters from their marks, but that was sufficient, suitably advancing the superior man onto the next trial. Cheyenne had excused herself from that round, once again finding the brutality too much to tolerate. She'd retreated to the tranquility of the gardens, where the noise from Darian's fountain drowned out the throaty cheers and war-like cries, and the shrouded silhouette of the barrakai had kept her company. Two more suitors were eliminated in that round, including Lord Grisham, who Maximus defeated, and Chris, who was bested by his own brother. Neither man had been too happy 533

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about his fate, but both had adhered to the rules and excused themselves from the remaining two games. Four men advanced to the next trial, which was the hunt. They were permitted up to three days to complete their mission and return to the castle, allowing two days before the final trial for deliberation and elimination. Only two men would proceed to the last challenge. On the dawning of day four, the remaining competitors, accompanied by one man of their choice, had begun the hunt. It only took two days for the men to return. The deliberations took less than that. Cheyenne had declined an invitation to take part in determining the worth of each man's kill. She'd had no desire to see what helpless animals were murdered in her honor, or who had slain them. She only hoped Darian was one of the two who advanced to the final round. "Are ya nervous?" Sari questioned, breaking into Cheyenne's roving thoughts. "Yeah," she replied. "And scared to death. I don't even know who made it to the last round. Nor," she added quickly. "Do I want to. Because if—" The door to her room cracked open and Marion peeked his scraggly head inside. "It's time," he announced. Then he slipped back out, letting the door drift closed as quietly as it had opened. Cheyenne's insides were instantly in a flutter. Her hands began to shake and she felt as though she might faint. "It's time," she muttered softly. 534

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On trembling legs, she stood up from the dressing table and turned toward the door. It only took one step for her knees to give out. She started to buckle. Sari quickly wrapped her arm around Cheyenne's waist. "Here, let me help ya." She gently urged Cheyenne back down in the chair. "Oh, Sari. I can't. I just can't," Cheyenne wailed, feeling tears of anguish sting her lids. "Aye, but ya can, m'Lady. I know ya can. Trust me." "But what if I make the wrong choice? What if Darian isn't a final..." Cheyenne caught herself, knowing she'd just let her secret slip. "Ya have the two best qualifyin' candidates to choose from. An' I know you'll make the right decision," Sari concluded. "But how do you know?" Cheyenne persisted. "How can you be so sure?" "Because, I believe in the prophecy. An' I believe in you." Sari's eyes were filled with such confidence that Cheyenne couldn't help but feel a small amount of reassurance. Everyone had placed their complete faith in her. And fifteen men had risked their lives on that devotion, all with the hopes of having the honor of standing before her at the last trial. How could she let them down by being unsure? She closed her eyes a long moment and thought of Darian. Of how he looked when she first saw him standing within the midst of his loyal warriors. Of how it felt when he touched her that first time. Of how he tasted when they'd kissed in the pond. 535

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No matter what happened, she'd always have those memories. They were imprinted in her brain and burned into her heart. And no matter who she chose as her champion, Darian would always have her love. Finding her courage, Cheyenne pushed herself up from the chair once again. "Okay, let's go. I'm ready." Sari smiled in return. Holding out her hand, "We shall go together." Cheyenne nodded. Yes. That would be good. She certainly needed the support. This would be the most important decision of her life. And she had no desire to make it alone. **** When Cheyenne stepped into the grand meeting hall, the number of people who lined the walls and floor took her aback. It seemed as though every person of the Andreas Clan was in attendance. And probably several from the others as well. The room, which was filled with the noisy chatter of excitement, suddenly grew quiet, as all eyes turned to see the woman who would become the mother of Zandar's future. Cheyenne's footsteps faltered when she felt the overpowering sense of uncertainty pounce on her once again. But Sari held her steady, and gently nudged her forward. Marion motioned for her to come and join him, so she focused her gaze on him, trying to drown out the curious stares that scrutinized her from head to foot. With legs that felt more like spindly stilts, she started through the crowd of people. 536

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The horde respectfully split, like the parting of the red sea, allowing her unabridged access to the awaiting throne. Several hushed oohs and ahs floated through the air around her, as the spectators in attendance saw her for the first time. Thankful for Sari's sturdy arm—and that she hadn't tripped and made a complete fool of herself—Cheyenne climbed the few stairs to the stage and graciously sat down in one of the two chairs, as indicated by Marion. The seat beside her remained empty, lonely, as though waiting for her chosen suitor to claim his rightful place. And Cheyenne couldn't help but pray it was Darian who sat upon that royal blue velvet cushion. As soon as she was seated, a huge wooden door to her left opened up and the disqualified suitors began filing in. They slowly made their way through the crowd, amidst a few boos and flying objects, eventually finding their spots before her. All of them were there with the exception of two—Maximus and Darian. Cheyenne wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Although there was some part of her that knew, deep down inside, these would be the remaining two, she'd held onto a tiny sliver of hope that Maximus might be eliminated, thus allowing her to make her choice without fear of repercussion. The crowd had once again risen to a deafening roar as several people from other clans and holds voiced their disapproval at their Lord's failure. Several foreign items found their way to the foot of her throne as anger edged toward 537

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rebellion. Fearing for her own safety, she turned frightened eyes to Marion. "Silence!" Marion roared, surprisingly loud and clearly audible against the boisterous crowd. "The trials have been completed, an' the two most qualified candidates are chosen. Ya will adhere to this rulin', or you'll be removed from the hall!" As if on cue, several heavily armed guards filed into the room from multiple doorways. "This is the fifth an' final test. Ya've been allowed to witness this last trial only because it affects each an' every one of ya. Now, fer those of ya who wish to stay, be silent!" The room was instantly quiet and all attention was shifted to the trembling woman who huddled in the massive chair upon the stage. Arguments temporarily forgotten, anger momentarily thwarted, the crowd patiently waited like a class of curious and attentive students. "Bring forth the first contender," Marion commanded. The door to Cheyenne's left opened up once again and Maximus strode through. He carried himself as though confident of his outcome. With head held high, shoulders squared, it was obvious he intended to emerge the victor in this final round. Two men carrying an enormous wooden trunk trailed in behind him. They seemed to be struggling with their load, as if whatever it was inside weighed a ton. As carefully as they could, the two set the chest on the floor before Cheyenne and then exited the room. 538

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The crowd pressed closer as Maximus stepped toward the box. Cheyenne even found herself leaning forward in her chair with curiosity. She was almost afraid to know what might come out. But before he opened it, Maximus turned to her and bowed. "M'Lady, this is only a sample of the finery I shall bestow upon ya, when I'm yer husband." His eyes met hers in an unwavering glare. Then he stood back up. "It's only a token of my deepest regard, fer there's truly no gift which compares to yer beauty an' selfless grace." Although his voice sounded heartfelt, the words sincere, Cheyenne could hear the slight undertone of warning in his meaning. When I'm your husband, he'd said. Declaring his claim to everyone in the room. This man was very cunning indeed. He would stoop to any means necessary to ensure his victory. And it was obvious he had no intention of losing. She prayed Darian's gift, whatever it might be, would out do this one. Maximus lifted the trunk's heavy lid and reached down inside. What he pulled out not only shocked, but also infuriated Cheyenne beyond words. Of all gifts for him to present, this was the last thing she'd ever expected. Maximus proudly hefted the animal hide from the box and carried it up the steps to Cheyenne. "With such short timin', the insides have nae properly cured. But that can be resolved later." Cheyenne stared at the snowy white fur, speechless. Although she was certainly no expert in tannery, she could tell this pelt had been meticulously removed from its carcass 539

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and painfully prepared. Part of her wanted to burst into tears, and the other was simply numb from distress. This must have been the animal he killed for the fourth trial. The realization only made her all the more distraught. After all, she'd been the one to stipulate that the pelt must be usable. But she hadn't meant like this. Not for her. She knew his gift was intended to please her. And in this world, was probably a very rare and valuable find. But hadn't he heard a thing she'd said in the previous meeting? She loved all life, treacherous or not. And the killing of innocent animals was completely unacceptable to her. She reached a tentative hand out to touch the silky fur and felt her heart squeeze with grief. "How..." she squeaked, unable to finish the words. Cheyenne cleared her throat. "How does this prove your mercy?" she asked in a strained voice. **** Seeing her apparent repugnance, Maximus quickly returned the fur to the chest and closed the lid. White tigres were nearly impossible to find. He'd never seen a woman turn her nose to such an exceptional souvenir. But it mattered not. It was only a token. The real gift, and proof of his mercy, was yet to come. Pleased by his own ingenuity, he approached Cheyenne once again, a smile tipping the corners of his mouth. "Lady Cheyenne, fer several moon cycles, this tigre has terrorized hold folk on the fringes of Andreas Territory. It's killed several 540

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head of calett, an' countless other animals, which are desperately needed by the people fer food. But worst of all, this very creature has taken the life of nae one, but two bairns." He dramatized his speech by walking to the edge of the stage and facing the crowd. "So I say to you, what is mercy?" Then he raised his hands in mock query. "Has slayin' this horrible beast nae bespoke of my mercy? I've no doubt saved the lives of many. Can there be an action any more compassionate than this?" His voice boomed across the crowd, almost instantaneously drawing an awed following. Cheers and whistles rang out amongst the mass, praising this man who'd rid them of such a horrible beast. Then a faint chant began in the back of the room and steadily worked its way to the front, growing with intensity along the way. "Ra-me-kah, Ra-me-kah," it went, gradually rising until the room vibrated in tune. Feet pounded the floor and fists beat upon the walls. The noise was nearly deafening. There was no doubt in his ability to persuade. Maximus knew he'd just won the crowd, most of which belonged to holds other than his own. With a satisfied grin, he turned back to Cheyenne and bowed once again. Then he held out his hand and patiently waited for her to respond. **** Begrudgingly, Cheyenne placed her hand in Maximus's palm and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She tried not to 541

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cringe when his head dipped forward and he kissed her knuckles. She could see the pleased sparkle in his golden eyes and she knew she was trapped. Unless Darian could out do this, she'd have no choice but to pick Maximus as the winner. "I humbly await yer decision," he concluded, releasing her hand and backing away. Cheyenne plopped down into her chair and watched his retreating backside. Be strong, she urged herself. Don't give up on Darian yet. A few minutes passed as they all patiently waited for the final contender. Murmurs of awe and admiration circled through the crowd as talk of Maximus's great deed passed about the room. Although his act hadn't been of mercy per say, it could be construed as an action of compassion for his fellow Zandarians. If this creature has been stalking the hold for some time now, why hasn't Darian dealt with it? Would Darian's inaction turn against him? Would his own people vote him out? The possibility seemed likely. Maximus claims the animal has killed two children. Surely Darian wouldn't just idly sit by and let that continue. And if so, why? Lost in her pondering, Cheyenne barely notice when Sari quietly slipped from the room. She was just in the process of construing some sort of acceptable reason when her brooding was cut short, for the door to her left opened again, this time admitting the man himself. Darian. 542

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He calmly entered the room and made his way to the foot of the stage. Cheyenne watched his casual stride until he stopped in front of her, and then glanced toward the door. She expected a coffer or trunk, as had arrived with Maximus. But none came. A bleak moment of fear gripped her insides. Had he failed to come up with something? Had she made the rules too difficult? She felt panic beginning to rise. **** Darian could tell Cheyenne was nearly at the edge of her seat, barely restraining her apprehension. He smiled reassuringly as he slowly climbed the stairs toward her. She looked so frightened that it took everything he had not to gather her in his arms. Maximus's gift had been good; he'd give him that. But his was better. And he had Sari thank for it. Turning to the crowd as Maximus had, "My fellow clan members an' people of Zandar," he began. His voice was loud, clear, and sharply authoritative. "I stand before ya, nae as a Lord, but as a common mon. A mon who's been humbled an' bruised. A mon who's been broken an' rebuilt through determination an' perseverance. Through days of competition an' trial, I've earned the right to be here. Nae because of who I am, but because of what I am. Because of my fortitude, as has my adversary." Darian took a deep breath and turned toward Cheyenne. "Which brin's me to this final test. A test of mercy, of compassion." 543

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Then he kneeled before her. "I ask ya, m'Lady, what is mercy? What is compassion? Is the takin' of one life to spare another a true show of leniency? Or is it merely a display of strength?" Several shocked gasps echoed behind him. He was openly disputing Lord Ramekah's claim, challenging his declaration of compassion. And now he'd prove why. "I could stand here all day an' profess my love fer ya, my adoration, my worship. But those are merely words. Without action, they have no merit. I could give ya furs an' jewelry, an' the finest of clothes. But they are merely trinkets. They have no true value. Yer purpose, m'Lady, is to bear a great leader of men who'll brin' forth peace to our world, once an' fer all. But how can a world be saved except through the acceptance of others? How can a mon learn to respect his enemy except through understandin'?" The door to the left cracked open a final time, admitting Sari and a very shocking guest. The crowd backed away in horror as the young handmaiden escorted his gift to the stage. Even the other suitors took a step or two back in alarm. Cheyenne's hand flew to her mouth with astonishment. "How did you..." Her voice was filled with wonder. Darian jumped to his feet and took the leash from Sari's hand. Then he reached down and lovingly stroked the baby tigre's snowy white fur, reassuring the scared animal that it was safe, and he'd protect it.

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"It's all right," he murmured softly, briefly scratching behind its black-tipped ears. Then he scooped the tigre into his arms and started toward Cheyenne. "Are ya barmy?" Lord Aragard demanded, breaking away from the rest of his defeated group and rushing to intervene. "Wait," Cheyenne commanded, indicating for Lord Aragard to be silent. She motion for Darian to continue. He deposited the squirming cub at her feet, and then stepped back to give her room. **** Cheyenne cautiously reached her hand out, letting the timid animal sniff her skin. This was the moment of truth. Either the baby—which was the size of a medium dog—would trust her, or it would be frightened and attack. "Its okay," Cheyenne whispered, trying to extend her sincerity through her voice. The tigre ran its cold pink nose along her fingers, meticulously taking in her scent. Apparently deciding she wasn't a threat, it rubbed its upper lip against her hand, running its whiskers and teeth along her skin. Then it plopped down onto its side and focused its attention on the awestricken spectators. After a few long moments of a quiet stare down between the curious cub and the terrified crowd, the tigre opened its rather large teethfilled jaws in a lazy yawn, and then laid its head on Cheyenne's feet. Within a few seconds, its content purr floated into the air. 545

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Seemingly satisfied he'd made his point, Darian bowed to her. "My gift to you, m'Lady. An' my proof that true mercy lies beyond the tip of one's sword." The room erupted in a deafening roar of cheers and clapping, even louder than it had before. Somehow, someway, Darian had managed to beat Maximus. And there was a whole room full of people to prove it. As Darian headed for the exit, Marion cautiously approached the stage. He held his hands up in an attempt to silence the crowd, but they were not to be easily mollified. They would honor their champion, and not even the hounds of Hades could quiet them. Soon a chant, just as it had for Maximus, started in the midst and made its way through the horde. Cheyenne imagined that Darian's praise could be heard through every hall, in every chamber, and even to the borders of the great wall surrounding the Andreas Clan. There was no denying it. He was the people's chosen victor. Although the napping tigre seemed unconcerned about the noisy mob, Cheyenne feared he might get upset if they didn't settle down. Cautiously, so as not to awaken him, she stood and stepped toward the edge of the stage. Then she held her hands up in a plea for silence. "Please," she yelled, trying to be heard over the crowd. "Please, settle down. I know you're excited. And you've just cause to be so. But you must—" "Who's yer chosen victor, m'Lady?" Someone from the crowd yelled. Then, as if on cue, the horde began to chant the word choice. 546

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"Choice. Choice. Choice," they yelled, their enthusiasm peaking again. Cheyenne wanted to declare Darian as her victor, but she wasn't sure if there were any more stipulations to uphold. She turned to Marion, hoping he might be able to help. But Marion merely shrugged with indifference. The final trial was over. He'd done his part. Now the decision was hers. Cheyenne turned back to the crowd. She pondered the situation for a long moment, while they continued to chant and carry on. There must be no doubt as to who the appropriate winner was. She smiled to herself as a plan began to form. "People of Zandar," she yelled. "Whom do you think has justly earned his place as my champion?" The horde suddenly grew silent, as though deliberating the question together. Then they seemed to split in two, one half favoring Darian, the other Maximus. Once again, the definitive call was given back the Cheyenne. Although quite different in their methodology, both men had presented impressive tokens of compassion. And it was obvious the crowd was almost equally divided in their preference. It was a difficult decision, one that required a short reprieve for further contemplation. "As you know, the outcome of this greatly affects us all. I need a day to think on it. Tomorrow, at this same time, I'll give you my decision." This seemed to satisfy the anxious crowd and they began filing out. Cheyenne exhaled with relief. She had twenty-four hours to prepare. And she'd no doubt need every minute of it. 547

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CHAPTER 38 Cheyenne was up early the next morning. She quickly ate, got dressed, then headed for the gardens. She would have Sari help her get ready later. Right now, she needed a quiet place to think. Both Maximus and Darian had occupied her time since yesterday's trial, and she still hadn't organized her thoughts into an adequate speech. She knew the people would accept either choice she made, but there was still Maximus's threat to contend with. He fully expected to be declared the winner. So it was imperative he and every other person in attendance understand why Darian was chosen instead. Cheyenne wandered through the winding paths for several hours, willing her mind to be free and receptive to any possible solution. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of Darian's statue. This seemed to be her favorite place in the gardens, and her subconscious had led her there once again. Although the stony likeness couldn't talk to her or hold her as she so desired to be held, it did at least offer her some comfort. And some company. Sure, her ever-present guards were nearby, ready to respond to any distress she might encounter. And Sari was always there for her. But no one could fill the gaping void in her heart that cried out for Darian. It was almost time for the meeting, and she still had yet to come up with an acceptable solution. Frustrated, Cheyenne 548

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plopped down on the fountain's ledge. Almost immediately, the golden barrakai came to the surface. It seemed as though the strange fish had grown used to her presence, perhaps even looking forward to it, and she to it. They'd developed some kind of silent bond, a mutual respect if you will, where they each could peacefully coexist, while at the same time maintain their personal space. "That's it!" Cheyenne jumped up from her seat, startling the shiny fish. "Oh thank you, my little friend. You've given me the answer to my problem." Feeling her confidence renewed, Cheyenne headed for her dressing room. The assembly was gathering. It was nearly time for her determination. And she had no intention of being late. **** For today's occasion, Sari dressed her in an ice-blue gown made of silk so shiny it shimmered like glass. The hemline reached the tip of her toes, barely covering her blue velvet slippers, and a short train trailed behind her when she walked. The top edge of the bodice was cut into a deep V, and with the help of a very uncomfortable and rigid bodice, exposed a fairly large amount of cleavage. The sleeves were tight and long, reaching all the way to her wrists. The neckline set low upon her shoulders, leaving her upper chest nearly bare. And a sparkling heart-shaped sapphire outlined with crystal-clear diamonds lay nestled between her breasts, suspended from a shiny silver chain. 549

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Her hair was swept back into two large onyx rolls joined at the base of her neck by a sapphire and diamond-laden clasp. A smaller version of the necklace's charm dangled from both ears. The final piece of her jewelry ensemble was a silver bracelet, which was clasped around her wrist like a handcuff and adorned with multiple blue and clear jewels. Cheyenne stared at her reflection in the mirror. The blue of her dress enhanced her dark skin, making it look as creamy and smooth as light caramel. And her indigo eyes suddenly shined like two cerulean gems. She couldn't help but feel pleased by Sari's accomplishment. Just a little bit of pink rouge for her cheeks and lips, and she was finished. She felt like an ice princess. Sari stepped back and examined her work. "Ya look absolutely stunnin', m'Lady. I'd hoped the blue gown would emphasize yer unique colorin', an' it appears I was right. Nay?" Cheyenne smiled at her handmaiden. "Yes, I believe you are. It does seem to make me ... glow." A soft knock at the door drew their attention. Marge slipped her head inside. When she saw Cheyenne, her aged face lit up with approval. "It's time. Are ya ready?" Cheyenne nodded her head. All traces of uncertainty and doubt were gone, replaced by an air of composure and selfassurance. She glanced in the mirror one last time. Her face was full of strength, shining with a resolute and tranquil peace. She knew what she had to do, and she was prepared to do it. 550

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"Let's go," she announced, her voice even and confident. **** Cheyenne slipped through the door closest to the stage and quickly took her seat. The number of spectators almost seemed doubled today, with people standing shoulder to shoulder and filling every inch of space. She couldn't blame them. This was to be the initiation of a life-turning event. Within a few minutes, Marion entered from her left, trailed by the failed suitors. Other than for curiosity's sake, Cheyenne wondered why they even stayed. They'd already lost their chance at being chosen. She supposed it was like Earthmen and football. Although the outcome wasn't dependent upon their presence, they still insisted upon seeing the game to its finality. The last to enter through the doorway was Darian and Maximus. Both of whom confidently strode into the room as though sure of themselves and the decision about to be made. The crowd suddenly grew still as all eyes became attentive on the two men who stood before the stage. Marion was the first to speak. "People of Zandar, ya've two men before ya. Two men who've successfully beaten their other opponents an' advanced through difficult trials. Two men who are known leaders, both feared an' revered in their own right." He pointed to Maximus and Darian, indicating the two men he described. "But only one can be the ultimate champion. Only one, the chosen victor. An' now it's time fer the mother of our future 551

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to decide who will sire 'er bairn. The bairn that will end the warrin' between the great nations of Zandar. The bairn that will brin' peace to our world." The crowd responded by cheering and clapping. And for a long moment, Marion allowed their display of excitement and joy. Then he held up his hands, issuing a command for silence, which they immediately adhered to. "People of Zandar, I give ya Lady Cheyenne." He motioned for her to join him at the front of the stage. Cheyenne rose from her seat and approached the front of the rostrum. She felt as though she floated rather than walked across the royal blue carpet. All eyes in the crowd gaped at her in apparent awe. She could only imagine what they must be thinking. This was their future. Marion took one of her hands in his and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. "You are quite a picture of elegance an' grace, m'Lady." Then he released her and bowed with respect. "The stage is yers." Cheyenne watched as he hobbled down the steps and made his way to stand with the group of ex-suitors. Then she looked out amongst the horde and felt her heart clench with pride and purpose. With their faces contorted into expressions of hope and adoration, she realized these people believed in her, loved her even, regardless of the fact they knew nothing of her other than she was their chosen one. They'd waited hundreds of years for her to come to them, and now it was up to her to fulfill their dreams. She smiled, feeling her eyes begin to water with tears of understanding. As she looked upon the countless figures, 552

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some of them well dressed and obviously part of the upper class, others clothed in tattered attire, their faces smudged with dirt, she understood that these were her people now. Her clan. "People of Zandar," she began in a weak voice trembling with emotion. She wiped a tear from her cheek, willing herself to be strong. "People of Zandar," she began again, her voice now firm and clear. "I'm pleased and proud to be your chosen one. And I accept this honor with the intention of living up to your every expectation." She took a deep, cleansing breath. "My first duty, as your chosen one, is to determine which between these two men is best qualified to sire my child. I assure you, it's no easy task. Both men have demonstrated their worthiness by completing the previous trials. And both have, though through quite different means, verified their ability to feel mercy and compassion for their fellow man." Cheyenne indicated Maximus. "Take Lord Ramekah here. He knew the tigre—a very dangerous and feared creature of this world—was terrorizing holds, destroying livestock, and even killing young children. Although it wasn't his duty to attend to this matter, since the hold involved wasn't a part of his territory, he took it upon himself to track down the menacing creature and destroy it, thus proving his compassion for other human nations of his world, even ones he might otherwise be at odds with." Several spectators and even a few of the other suitors nodded in agreement. Lord Ramekah had shown a 553

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considerable amount of caring and compassion, despite his otherwise horrid reputation. But there was Darian's presentation to consider yet. "Next, you have Lord Andreas," she continued, indicating toward Darian. "He approached the prospect of mercy through quite a different means, symbolized by a gift of life. Sari?" The door to the left of the stage opened up, admitting Sari and the baby tigre. Those new to the audience inhaled in one big harmonious gasp. And those witnessing the terrifying beast for the second time still took an uncertain step back from the stage. Sari gently urged the snowy tigre toward its waiting mistress. She handed Cheyenne the leash and curtsied with respect. Then she took her place next to Marion and the others. Cheyenne knelt down beside the tigre. First she stroked the cottony soft fur on the top of its head, and then gently scratched behind one of its black-tipped ears. She couldn't help but chuckle when the happy feline plopped onto its back, lifted its front paws and curled its head around in an attempt to play. "As I stated before, Lord Ramekah tracked and slayed the adult tigre terrorizing a nearby hold. But what you don't understand, is that his prey was a female tigre who was trying to feed her young, much the same way a man would hunt food for his family." She lovingly patted to tigre's belly and then stood up to face her crowd. 554

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"There are many creatures of this world, just as there are many on my Earth. Some are very dangerous, such as this tigre. And some are harmless, much like the flitterbys that fill the Andreas gardens. But all have their place. If the answer to every problem is destruction, then how can you ever hope to change the way of life here?" Cheyenne walked across the stage to where the two finalists stood waiting. She smiled at both of them. The trials had truly narrowed her choice down to the most qualifying candidates. "Lord Andreas, Lord Ramekah, I've thought long and hard about your gifts and your reasons for giving them. I believe the people are quite evenly split on their preference between you two. So the final determination is left to me." She took a deep breath. "I reread the prophecy last night, trying to clarify my understanding as to what its true purpose is, and hopefully gain some insight as to which of you might better fit that goal." Cheyenne turned back toward the audience. "After a considerable amount of contemplation, this is what I've determined. What the prophecy declares is that I'll give birth to a child who'll be a leader, who men will eagerly follow, and who'll bring peace to the warring territories." She briefly glanced back at Darian and Maximus. "Your warring territories. I believe the only way to accomplish this goal is to have a child who can see the good in all that's around him, who'll love his neighbor and respect his enemy, from his fellow man to even the dangerous tigre." 555

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With a stare that pleaded for understanding, she turned to Maximus. "I don't believe Zandar will ever know peace until the bloodshed is stopped and the people learn to share the fruits of this world with all its creatures, and with each other." As though knowing he was about to lose, Maximus's mouth dipped into a deep frown. An angry muscle worked along his jaw as he gritted his teeth, and his lips tightened into a thin line of displeasure. Cheyenne knew she had clearly painted Darian as the obvious victor, and there was nothing Maximus could do about it. Not even publicizing his suspicions about her and Darian's previous intimacy would matter now. Darian had beaten him fair and square. "Therefore," Cheyenne continued, ignoring Maximus's murderous scowl. "I think the one man between these two who's proven his ability to understand that necessity and is willing to instill those characteristics into his offspring is quite clear." She smiled broadly at Darian, beaming from ear to ear. "Lord Darian Andreas is my chosen champion," she declared, holding her hand out to him. No longer hindered by the restraints of the trial restrictions, Darian quickly closed the distance between them in two long strides and crushed her to him. His mouth came down over hers with blatant possession, sealing her declaration with a bold kiss. The entire crowd clapped and cheered with approval, accepting the determination in unopposed unison. Cheyenne wrapped her arms around her champion. At that moment, she didn't care about the prophecy, the crowd, or 556

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even the fuming Lord Ramekah standing beside them. All that mattered was that she was once again within the comforting circle of Darian's arms. And she couldn't think of anywhere else on Earth or Zandar she'd rather be. Darian hugged her fiercely. "Bless the gods," he muttered into the curve of her neck. "Bless the gods," he repeated again. "By the law an' witness of all these people, yer mine. An' justly so." Cheyenne was too overjoyed to speak. She merely nodded her head in agreement. Tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks as he gently took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. "As soon as it can be arranged, we'll be wed. You'll be my wife. An' no one will be able to take ya from me, ever." Then he kissed her again, as though daring her to object. Cheyenne returned his fevered declarations with equal passion. "I wouldn't have it any other way, m'Lord," she zealously whispered against his mouth.

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EPILOGUE Cheyenne gripped the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white with strain. She arched her back and screamed with pain as the gut-wrenching contractions tore through her abdomen. When the torturous wave was over, she collapsed back onto the bed, panting and sweating with exertion and fatigue. "Can't ya do anythin' fer 'er," Darian begged, feeling helpless as he watched her struggle through the agony of childbirth. "I'm sorry, m'Lord. But 'til the birthway is ready, she must endure the pain," Marge explained. "But how much longer will it take?" Darian stared down at Cheyenne, and grew alarmed as he took in her sweat-soaked brow. "Look how pale she is. Ya sure she's all right?" Marge gently checked the progress of the baby's descent. "Nae much longer. If she'd relax with the pain, it would be sooner rather than later." Another tormenting contraction hit and Cheyenne began to stiffen up. Darian quickly rushed to her side. "Try to relax, lass. Just take some deep—" "Relax?" Cheyenne screeched. "How the hell do you expect me to relax when my insides are being ripped open? This is your fault, Darian Andreas! Do you hear me? Just wait until this is over."

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Darian took an uncertain step back, stunned by her callous accusations. "I ne'er intended fer ya to go through any agony. How can ya blame this on me?" Marge chuckled and patted his arm reassuringly. "Dinna worry, m'Lord. That's a good sign. She's nearly ready. Dinna be alarmed if she starts throwin' punches. Now get back up by 'er head, she's gonna need yer help real soon." Although he wasn't too sure what he could do to help, Darian did as he was told. He suffered through the next couple of contractions with her, gritting his teeth as she dug her nails into the tender flesh of his forearms. And then it was time to push. "Okay, Cheyenne, when the next contraction starts, I want ya to grab yer legs behind yer knees, pull yer head into yer chest, hold yer breath, an' push as hard as ya can fer ten counts," Marge ordered. "Auria?" Cheyenne nodded her head. She leaned back against the pillow, seemingly resting and gathering her strength before the next pain began. "It's almost over, lass," Marge said reassuringly as she positioned herself between Cheyenne's knees. "What do ya want me to do?" Darian asked. "Help 'er roll forward, support 'er neck, an' urge 'er to push," Marge explained. Darian nodded. He gently squeezed Cheyenne's hand, letting her know he was with her all the way. She turned her face toward him and started to smile, but her mouth twisted with sudden pain and she quickly rolled up as Marge had directed. 559

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As though she'd been waiting for the signal, Marge immediately began to shout encouragement. "Push, Cheyenne! Push, push, push. Keep pushin', keep pushin'. Come on, lass. You can do it. A few more counts ... Good, now take a deep breath an' push again. Come on, you can do it. Keep pushin', keep pushin'. Nine, ten, big deep breath an' one more time, push, push, push. Aye, that's good, lass. Yer doin' fine." **** Cheyenne collapsed back onto the pillow. She concentrated on relaxing, rallying her strength for the next contraction. This wasn't nearly as bad as waiting through the pains had been. She barely even felt it now. Her attention was more focused on pushing. "Ya did great, lass." Darian kissed her forehead, then placed a cool rag against her cheek. "I love ya." "I love you ... too," Cheyenne gasped out, rolling forward again as the next contraction began. This time Darian joined Marge in her encouraging chant of "push, push, push" and "keep going, keep going." For the next fifteen minutes or so, they alternated between pushing with contractions, and resting in between. Finally, on the tenth contraction, Cheyenne felt the baby's head emerge, quickly followed by the rest of its tiny body. A healthy wail filled the chamber air. The newest edition to the Andreas family had just been born.

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"Oh my," Marge exclaimed, catching the baby in a clean blanket as it slipped into her arms. "Well, this is quite a surprise." "What?" Cheyenne and Darian demanded in unison. Ignoring their alarm, Marge quickly dried the squalling newborn, tied and clipped its cord, and wrapped it in a clean blanket. A secretive smile played at the corners of her wrinkled lips. "I'll let ya discover it fer yerselves," she declared, gently laying the baby on Cheyenne's abdomen. Then she busied herself with delivering the afterbirth and cleaning Cheyenne's sore bottom. With trembling fingers, Cheyenne gently stroked the mop of dark hair covering the top of her baby's head. She wanted to pick the baby up, look at its face, count its toes and fingers, check that everything was just how it should be, but her arms and legs were shaking so badly she feared she might drop it. "Darian, I want to see our baby, but I can't seem to quit shaking. Will you..." She indicated for him to pick up the baby. Darian looked utterly terrified. "It's so small. Surely I'll drop it. I can't possibly—" "Now dinna be so scared," Marge scolded. "Just mind its neck an' you'll do fine." With awkward hands, Darian gently scooped the baby off of Cheyenne's belly. He carefully cradled the squirming infant in his arms and stared down at it with apparent awe. "It's the most amazin' thin' I've ever saw," he whispered, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. 561

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Cheyenne struggled to sit up. "I want to see." Darian kneeled down beside the bed. She quickly scanned the baby's face and exposed upper body. "I don't see anything wrong with him." "I didn't say there was anythin' wrong with it," Marge corrected. Cheyenne was puzzled. She carefully pulled the blanket away from the baby's body so she could see the rest of him. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I see your point. That certainly is a surprise." **** Darian stared down at the baby's little round abdomen. And then dropped his gaze lower, to where what he expected to see was missing. He choked out a shocked gasp. The baby was perfect, there was no doubting that. From the top of its black hair, to its ten tiny toes. There wasn't a single flaw. And when it opened its dark lashes and he looked into his daughter's sparkling, indigo eyes, he felt his heart clench and realized that he couldn't have been more pleased. Ever so gently, he kissed the side of her little puckered mouth. His eyes filled with tears of joy as he smiled up at Cheyenne. "She's the second most bonnie thin' I've ever seen. I'm so proud of ya." Cheyenne burst into tears. "She's so beautiful. And I don't know why I'm crying." "Aye, she is," Darian reassured, gently wiping the tears from Cheyenne's cheeks. "She looks just like you." 562

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"Well, it's a darned good thin' of it," Marge butted in. Darian and Cheyenne both laughed. "What do ya want to name 'er," Darian asked. **** Cheyenne looked down at her daughter who was noisily slurping on a tiny fist. She brushed her fingers across the baby's cheeks, feeling as though she were in a dream and praying if it were so that she'd never wake up. "Whisper," she said softly. "Since the warring began with one Whisper, then it shall end with another." Darian smiled and nodded in acceptance. "Then Whisper it is." As though showing no intention of living up to her name, Whisper suddenly let out a high-pitched wail. Startled, Darian quickly thrust the squalling baby toward Cheyenne. "You better take 'er," he muttered hastily. Feeling her strength returning, Cheyenne gladly took her new daughter into her arms. She wrapped the blanket securely around the baby's tiny body, and then positioned her little nose toward her breast. It only took a moment or two of gentle encouragement before Whisper happily latched onto her mother's nipple and began to nurse. With her hand balled into a tiny fist and tucked below her chin, she slowly closed her eyes. When her belly was finally full, she yawned with content and then drifted off to sleep. Cheyenne quietly watched her daughter as she dozed. She could hardly believe her baby was finally here. Or that what 563

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everyone had thought was surely going to be a he, turned out to be a she. "She's so amazin'," Darian stated with wonderment. "Yeah," Cheyenne agreed, gently tucking a lock of black hair behind the baby's ear. "Little one," she whispered. "I don't know how you'll do it, but one day you're going to change the world." "But nae 'til she's at least one an' twenty passes old," Darian interjected. Cheyenne groaned with feigned dismay. "May the gods help her!" They looked at each other and laughed. Then Darian became serious. He reached out and tangled his fingers in the back of Cheyenne's hair. Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a possessive kiss. "From the moment I saw ya, standin' above me on that cliff, I knew it was kismet. It just had to be. We were destined to find each other. An' ya were meant to be mine," he whispered breathlessly. "I wouldn't have it any other way," Cheyenne returned, feeling the desire she'd kept suppressed for the last few weeks of her pregnancy suddenly spring to life. **** Marge chuckled to herself. Kismet? Maybe. Destiny? Perhaps. But she knew it was more than that, it was prophecy.

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Shannon Leigh Shannon Leigh is a practicing registered nurse who graduated with a B.S.N. R.N. from the Indiana University School of nursing in May of 1996. She's happily married and lives in Indiana with her husband, four sons, one dog, and two cats. When she's not chasing after her four rambunctious boys, Shannon enjoys role painting, drawing, reading, writing, and watching vampire flicks. Coincidentally, one of her favorite movies, Dracula 2000, which stars Gerard Butler, was released on her birthday, December 22. To find out more about Shannon, please visit her website at: www.angelfire.com/darkside/sleigh

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